Dissension (13 page)

“This is pretty cool guys.  A lot better than hanging out with Maxey.”  Sticks laughed.

As they rounded the corner near Anthony’s house, a beige car appeared and pulled up behind them.  They rode back onto the sidewalk so the car could pass, but it just putted along keeping them in front.  The windows of the car were tinted so no light passed through and even the windshield had some kind of reflective coating on it. 

Anthony looked back at the car and stopped.  He squinted trying to make out anything through the shadowy windows.  The engine revved and the car suddenly sped up and flew past them, the tires squealing as it swung around the corner.

“That was weird,” Mit said as he looked down the road, his eyes following the trail of the car.

“I think they go to our school.  I saw that same car the other day outside at lunch.”  Mikey said with a puzzled look on his face.  Not thinking anything else of it, everyone headed home.

Anthony walked through the front door and the memory of his date with Nickie came flooding into his mind.  The clock showed five-thirty and she was picking him up at six.  He darted upstairs and dove into the shower.  The hot water had barely hit his skin when his mom screamed from downstairs.

“Anthony, Nickie is here for you.”

He jumped at the sound of her voice and slipped on the slick floor tumbling backwards.  He grabbed at the shower curtain as he fell and tore it off the rod.  With a loud smack he landed flat on his back, the water still pouring down on his face.

Anthony rolled over wincing in agony and turned the water handle off.  He slowly stood up and stepped out of the shower.  He grabbed a pair of green board shorts from the counter and threw them on.  His back was still sore from his flying attempts and a sharp tingle shot down his spine and he twitched.

His mom yelled for him again.  He opened the door and yelled back to her and at the same time his wings burst from his back smacking into the wall with a thud.  Anthony slammed the door in panic.  He looked around the room as he frantically spun in place.

Suddenly the fall of footsteps caught his ear.  He could hear his mother talking to Nickie as they made their way up the stairs.  Panic took over and Anthony darted out onto the balcony still wearing nothing but board shorts.  The sun was still beaming through the clouds like a spot light. 

As the handle to his door turned, Anthony climbed onto the railing, took a deep breath and jumped.  With one beat of his gigantic wings he soared into the air, effortlessly gliding over the houses.  His room vanished behind him, just as Nickie and his mother stepped inside.

“Anthony?”  His mother looked around the room clueless.  “I’m sorry Nickie.  I could’ve sworn I heard him call down.”

Nickie smiled.

“It’s okay Mrs. Dimair.  He probably forgot.”

With puzzled faces they both headed back downstairs.  Meanwhile, Anthony circled in the air smiling ear to ear.  He felt limitless as his powerful wings carried him on the wind.  He was finally connected.  His wings moved instinctively predicting his decisions before he made them.

He banked hard and swung around completing a barrel roll.  The salty wind whipped passed his face stingy his eyes.  They watered making it hard to see.  As he wiped at his face he lost his concentration and began to tumble through the air.  He rolled in midflight catching glimpses of sky then grass then sky again until he landed hard, sliding through the dirt into someone’s front yard.

He jumped to his feet almost as soon as he’d hit the ground.  He was exposed and his wings were flapping like a fish out of water.

Suddenly, the front door to the house opened and Anthony whipped around.  To his surprise and relief, Mikey stepped out onto the front porch.

“Dude what are you doing?”

Anthony hadn’t realized he crash landed right into Mikey’s front yard.  He looked up at Mikey in shock.

“It’s a long story.”  He stuttered. “I need to come in.” Anthony huffed rubbing his head and pulling grass out of his hair.  Mikey raised an eyebrow then waved him in.

“Hurry up bro, I don’t need my neighbors seeing your little girl chest.”

MRS. CLARK’S SECRET

Anthony crouched low on the balcony hoping the banister would cover him.  He peered down the dimly lit street at the beige town car that had been there for days.  Mikey said he’d seen it at school, but Anthony was sure the car had been following him.

Maybe he was just being paranoid.  He had no real reason to suspect anything, unless someone talked.  He thought for a minute, he knew his close friends would die before they blabbed, but Sticks could’ve told. 

“It couldn’t have been Sticks.  He was there when we first saw the car.”  Anthony whispered to himself.

For almost a week Anthony had been watching the beige car, trying to get a glimpse of who had been driving it.  He’d almost given up when suddenly the trunk popped open.  Up ahead a man limped towards the car looking around nervously. 

Anthony got excited and sat up.  He stared over the banister waiting for the man to come into the light.  It was at this point that he realized the mysterious man was Mr. Clark.  Well, not exactly Mr. Clark, a younger version of Mr. Clark.  While Mr. Clark was pushing a century and a half, this guy was no more than fifty but looked just like him.  He wore beige dress slacks and his shoes made a clicking noise as if they had been created for tap dancing.

“Ah!” Anthony screamed, immediately covering his mouth.

He dropped to the floor and prayed he wasn’t heard.  He listened for what seemed like an eternity.  There was an eerie silence to the night pierced only by the sound of crickets.  Cautiously, he got back up to his knees and looked back over the railing.  The young Mr. Clark was still there, loading moving boxes into the car.

His mind was spinning trying to piece together what had just happened.  He was certain Mrs. Clark had killed her husband.  The ambulance, the dead body, she’d even chased them off of her property.  What was going on?  Why was a young Mr. Clark standing down the street?

Anthony scampered into his room, grabbed his binoculars, and then slowly crept back to the railing.  Reluctantly, he brought them to his face, afraid of what he might discover.  He focused them in and could clearly see the name Clark written on the boxes that had been sealed with scotch tape.

Anthony sat motionless for some time watching the man walk back and forth.  Then he noticed him returning with something besides a box.  It looked like a cylinder of some type but he was unable to make it out.  As the man rounded the back of the car he stepped under the street light and Anthony could see clearly what he was carrying.

He lurched back from the railing and dropped the binoculars.  They tumbled off the balcony and fell into the bushes below.  The man, who Anthony realized had to be Mr. Clark’s son, was carrying a large glass jar.  Inside of the jar, floating in some cloudy liquid was Mr. Clark’s severed head.

The head bobbed around in the opaque liquid, disappearing and reappearing as it sloshed about.  The man nonchalantly placed the jar into the trunk with the other boxes.

Anthony crab-walked backwards into his room and kicked the door closed.  Steve was right and Mr. Clark’s own son was involved.  Scurrying underneath his bed, Anthony tried to make sense of it all.  Should he call the cops or tell his parents?  He already knew no one would ever believe him.

His chest jumped up and down like a humming bird and he was sure he was gonna pass out from hyperventilation.  His hands shook uncontrollably as he wiped sweat from his forehead.

“You’re seeing things.”  He said to himself.

After a few minutes of shivering under his bed, Anthony crawled back onto his balcony.  He looked down the street and to his relief the car was gone.  He stood up and let out a long breath scanning the sidewalk for any sign of Mr. Clark’s son.  The night was silent and empty.  Looking over his shoulder he stepped back into his room and shut the door.

Anthony couldn’t sleep at all that night.  The image of Mr. Clark’s head haunted him.  His heart raced with fear, but he was also anxious.  He needed to tell someone what he thought he’d seen.

The next morning as they all sat around the palm tree outside, Anthony told them how he’d seen Mr. Clark’s severed head in a pickle jar last night.  He left out the part where he hid under his bed, certain that they weren’t interested in such minor details. 

“Are you sure?  Why would he have his dad’s head in a jar?” Mit eyed Anthony skeptically.

“I know what I saw… I think.”

“You know what this means bro.” Mikey smiled.  “We have to go back.”

“Are you nuts?” Steve almost choked on his sandwich.  “Her husband’s heads in a jar and you want to go back.”

“Yeah, but this time we’ve got…creature kid!” Mikey patted Anthony on the back smiling.

Anthony knew this was a dumb idea, but his curiosity was outweighing his common sense.  He opened his mouth to respond then shut it quickly as Nickie walked by with her friends.  She stared right through Anthony and didn’t say a word.  He sunk into his seat and frowned.

“She still not talking to you huh?”  Mikey asked.

Anthony shook his head.

“I’m in!”  He blurted out.  But what are we looking for?”

“A jar with a head in it, at least that’s what you said,” Mikey smiled.  “Anything else we’ll know it when we see it.”

Now that Anthony was going they were all in.  Having a friend with wings, even if he couldn’t control them, made them all feel a little safer.  They still weren’t sure how they’d get into the Clark’s house though.

“Bingo night!”  Steve screamed.

“What?”  Mikey looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Bingo night.  She plays Bingo every Friday night.  We can meet at my house and make sure she’s gone before we head over.”

Mikey smiled with excitement as the plan fell into place.  Anthony couldn’t help but grin as well, although he was starting to regret the entire idea.  If they were really collecting heads in jars, breaking into their house was probably the wrong direction to take.

For the rest of the day all any of them could think about was sneaking into the Clark’s
house.  A sense of danger and excitement lingered in the air.  It was the feeling you get before you do something very stupid, when you quiet the voice of reason inside your head and go forward anyway.

Before Anthony knew it the last bell of the day was ringing loudly.  He giggled, glancing over at Mikey who was eagerly gathering his things.  Steve tumbled over to his desk gleaming from ear to ear.

“Are you guys ready?  This is gonna be nuts.  Maybe she’s making some kind of Frankenstein experiment in the basement.”

Anthony shook his head and sneered.  Since Madame Mimi, his tolerance for adventures was pretty low.  He’d pretty much managed to talk himself out of the idea and was ready to call the whole thing off.

“Let’s get out of here.”  Mit said as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

They all gathered outside and started the march towards their neighborhood.  Steve was still bouncing around and now Mikey had joined in his excitement.  Anthony was growing more and more hesitant by the minute.

“I guess I’ll see you guys in a few.”  Anthony said as they headed off in different directions.

He arrived home ten minutes later still nervous as ever.  He made his way upstairs and stared down the street where he’d seen Mr. Clark’s son the other night.  The car was long gone and now a few kids were chasing each other with water guns around the light pole.

Anthony shrugged, then quickly packed a bag and ran downstairs.  He yelled back to his mother that he’d be at Steve’s house as he slammed the door behind him.  Mrs. Dimair poked her head out of the door and yelled after him.

“Anthony Dimair you get back up on this porch!”

Anthony stopped in his tracks and turned around.  He walked back up the steps with his head sunk.  He expected to be reprimanded for something he hadn’t even known he did.

“You don’t leave here without giving me a hug.”  She said as her face broke into a smile.

Anthony giggled then wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck.

“So what’s going on at Steve’s house?”  She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing much, just guy stuff.”

“Hmm.  Well you be careful with your guy stuff.”  Mrs. Dimair smirked.

She turned to go back inside then she paused.

“So Nickie seems nice.  Any reason you stood her up?”

Anthony blushed.  His mother was the last person he wanted to talk to about girls.

“I didn’t stand her up.”  He said defensively.  “I just forgot is all.”

His mother raised her eyebrows.  “Uh huh, you be safe Anthony.”  She said then headed back inside.

Anthony took a deep breath as he stared down the front porch, taking in what could possibly be his last sunset.  He knew if anything, his night was not going to be a careful one.  He just hoped he would make it back home, preferably with his head still attached.

It was now six o’clock and the streetlights were just flipping on.  They buzzed in unison like a swarm of bees.  His neighbors were outside watering their grass and waved as Anthony rode off on his bike.

By the time he made it to Steve’s house, darkness completely consumed the small town of North Shore.  The enormous mansion Steve called home stretched high into the evening sky like a white beacon in the night.  It resembled some type of ancient castle dropped right in the middle of suburbia.

Anthony closed the heavy wooden doors behind him and waved at Steve’s mom, who was in the kitchen cooking.

“Hey there Anthony, you hungry?”  She smiled at him holding up a pan covered with pastries.

“No thanks Mrs. Hanson, I just ate.”

Anthony wondered if she ever left the front of the stove.  Feeding her son was surely a fulltime job.  Steve was constantly shoveling food into his mouth.

As he walked through the foyer his footsteps echoed across the marble floor.  Steve’s parents didn’t work and had amassed a fortune from inventing “poop remover” a few years ago.  Steve didn’t like to talk about it, but his parents were basically the Trumps of North Shore.  Now they spent their time collecting strange and “priceless” artifacts for their house.

A dusty, old suit of armor stood guard near the front door.  A coffee table that sat on a glass grasshopper occupied the living room.  The wide hallways were lit with candles that sat on little wooden monkey hands. 

“The boys are back in the room.” Mrs. Hanson said as she slid another batch of cinnamon rolls into the oven.

Smiling, Anthony headed down the gloomy hallway and pushed open the heavy oak door to Steve’s bedroom.  Everyone else was already there, huddled around the bed, deep in conversation.  Clearing his throat loudly, he closed the door and they all turned to face him.

“So what’s the plan?”

“We leave at nine.  Steve’s been checking over there the last hour and she’s definitely gone.”  Mikey looked nervously towards the window.

The last time they ventured into Mrs. Clark’s bizarre little house it had been broad daylight.  Now they intended on making this trip in the dark and the ominous mist that accumulated outside didn’t make any of them feel better.

“You sure you guys wanna do this?”  Anthony spoke up after minutes of silence.

No one said a word.  They all stared at each other waiting for someone else to make a decision.  Mikey twiddled his fingers and cleared his throat.

“We have to bro.  I have to.  Come on guys, what else are we gonna do tonight.”

Anthony smirked.  He knew none of them had anything better planned.

“Guess we don’t have a choice do we.”  Mit mumbled.

Mikey smiled and from that point it was certain, they were heading back in.

At nine o’clock sharp they snuck out of the front door and crept low across the damp grass.  The streets were silent and most of the houses had turned their lights off.  A low lying cloud drifted across the yard and made the neighborhood look like a cemetery.

They bunched together at the fence that separated Mrs. Clarks’ house and scanned anxiously.

“Ok, this is it.  If anybody doesn’t want to come, run back to your mommy now,” Mikey glared at them with a sinister smirk.

They all looked to one another and shook their heads in agreement.  No one was turning back now.

Steve crawled to the hole in the fence left by his last escape and squeezed through.  The others silently followed behind him and met on the other side.  The creaky, old house stood in front of them, covering them in its shadow.

Mikey darted off to the porch and kneeled next to the door.  He turned the rusty, brass handle, but the door didn’t budge.  He took a step back and rammed his shoulder into it.  The door flung open and Mikey fell inside.

He stood up and brushed dust from his pants.  He laughed then motioned for everyone to follow him in. 

The house was dark and eerie.  The only light came from the moon outside through the dusty windows.  The same damp smell filled the air, but the furniture had been moved and most of it was missing.  A faint meow signaled that Mr. Crusty was still there, lurking somewhere in the darkness.