Louie the Fourteenth: A Novel

CHAPTER ONE

The Little Voice

They shoved me under so fast there was no time to think, let alone take a last gulp of precious air. With both my arms wrenched tight behind me by Bruce Wilson and my face held under in freezing water by Ray Wilson, the urge to panic was overwhelming. I tried to fight taking icy brown river water into my lungs - but my body’s reflexes had other ideas. As the water clogged down my wind pipe, my short life flashed before my eyes. Then, just as I reached the part of my mom’s last visit, I heard something. Something that wasn’t Jimmy Wilson or one of his two creepy brothers now well on their way to drowning me. The other sound was faint but still strong - like the distant shrill shriek of the old foundry’s steam whistle. Just as everything started to go black, somewhere in the last throes of consciousness I recognized the something was a voice. Toby’s voice - and she was screaming.

I was jolted awake by the uncontrollable urge to throw up as I lay on my side, soaking wet, on the snow-covered riverbank. From above me I heard Tobe sigh in relief.

Thank God. She was cradling my head in her lap as I continued coughing up brown river water into the snow, her tear-streaked face a mix of concern and fear. I thought you were a goner.

So did I. I managed to spit out the words, the foul taste of bile and polluted liquid still strong in my mouth. H-h-how’d you get rid of them? My body was beginning to shake uncontrollably as hypothermia started to set in. Toby jerked off her parka and draped it over my soaking back as I realized that, not just my head and shoulders, but my whole body was wet to the bone.

I think my screaming scared them off. They just let go of you and ran.

Toby said as she pulled me up into a sitting position and I noticed that snowflakes were beginning to fall. We’ve got to get you indoors quick. You’re beginning to turn blue.

You d-d-don’t look so good either. I’d been so preoccupied with myself I hadn’t noticed that Tobe was drenched, too. I suddenly realized that, when the Wilson brothers had panicked at being possibly discovered, their desire to escape detection overpowered any thoughts of pulling me out. Toby must have dove in to save me.

Jimmy Wilson and his younger brothers, Bruce and Ray, were classic bullies who used their numbers to intimidate all but the biggest kids at school. Jimmy particularly enjoyed taking a sadistic turn to those who were least likely to defend themselves, especially if they were different. That’s where I fit into this equation. In a small town like Melville, having an eccentric father put me near the top of the Wilson’s most-tortured list. I had further made the mistake of being fed up enough to complain to Principal Jeffries. Jimmy, Bruce and Ray had gotten a week’s detention. No one had ever dared to report them before and Jimmy didn’t like it one bit. That’s why they had waited for me to be alone. Any witnesses to their revenge would surely have brought unwanted consequences.

D-d-did you s-s-ee them? I stuttered out through chattering teeth. Toby had gotten me to my feet as we made our way in darkness up the snow-covered path that leads out of the ravine.

It was too near dusk. I couldn’t make out their faces. She frowned, But it was the Wilson’s again, wasn’t it? I didn’t even have to acknowledge Toby’s question with a word. She already knew the answer. You’ve got to tell your Dad this time, Peege. They could have killed you if I hadn’t come along."

The thought made me stop in my tracks. Not the part about my eminent death at the hands of our school’s premiere bullies. The part about bringing it up to the old man. "I just can’t, Tobe. You know how he is."

"He’s the only father you’ve got. But if you won’t tell him, then I will."

Faced with the certainty that my dear old dad was going to become involved, I wondered whether drowning at the hands of the Wilsons might be the more pleasant option.

My father, Pierpont J. Hayworth III, was the prodigal son of the Hayworths of Providence, Rhode Island. The family had been one of the original partners with the Rockefellers in the Standard Oil Company and no Hayworth had needed to dirty his hands at a menial job since the late 1800’s. Like most teens of the 1950’s, my dad chose to rebel against the establishment which was, in his case, pretty much everything associated with his family name. By the time he was twenty, Dad had packed up his Ford Panel truck and headed west, giving up all his worldly belongings in the process to become a struggling artist. He had learned welding from some metal sculpturing classes he had taken at Harvard and then used that skill to grab odd jobs as a welder, crossing the country in the process to support his artistic ambitions as a metal sculptor. That’s how he met my mother. They settled here in the thumb of Michigan so my mom could be near her brother. After she died two years ago, Dad went kind of wacky for a while. When he finally came out his grief, he began getting more and more eccentric - which is especially uncool when you take into consideration that, even on a good day, my father has pretty much always been a bit of a nut case.

The streetlights were on by the time the two of us reached the outskirts of town as we stumbled up to the high wooden fence that surrounded my dad’s workshop. Toby’s hands were shaking as badly as mine as she forced open the front gate. Peeking inside, her shivering teeth clicked together as she spoke over her shoulder to me.

W-w-wow. Looks like your dad’s been busy.

I’d been too frozen to notice, but Toby was right. There was a new partially-smashed wrought iron heron laying on its side just inside the gate. Every unfinished work of my dad’s art got thrown into the poop pile, as he calls it. To the casual observer, which included most of the town, his outbox could easily be mistaken for an auto salvage yard from the bad side of Flint.

We tried to run the last few yards to my father’s work shed, but our clothes had frozen so stiff it took all of Toby’s and my strength just to keep walking. When Toby finally opened the door, the instantaneous blast of heat from the woodstove combined with the smell of burning kindling and welding solder meant I was finally safe at home.

What the heck happened to you two? My dad’s words were muffled under his welding mask as he turned off his blow torch and flipped up his visor.

I tried to act nonchalant as I stammered an answer,

I f-f-fell into the river.

He didn’t fall. He was almost killed.

I glared at Toby. She’s exaggerating, Dad. It was just the Wilson brothers up to their usual sadism, that’s all.

Tobe’s face reddened as she grabbed the sleeve of my still-frozen-solid coat, scowling at me. P.J., you can’t cover up what they did this time. She turned to my dad solemnly. They were holding his head under water and wouldn’t let him come up for air.

At that confession, Dad’s smile disappeared as he yanked his visor completely off, revealing what he was wearing underneath, a pair of wrap-around bunny ears. Normally, the sight of the toy appendages would have been laughable except, this time, my father’s near-permanent Cheshire-cat grin was nowhere to be found. His eyes were on me like a set of high beams.

Is that true, P.J.?

I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I just looked down to the floor wishing I was anywhere else. Dad turned to Toby.

How many were there?

Three. Les and Bruce Wilson were holding him down while Jimmy Wilson was standing over them laughing.

Dad flung off his welding gloves in anger, something I had never seen him do. Go get in the truck, you two. I’ll be there in a splash.

We sat waiting in my dad’s old pick-up for some time. I hadn’t had the heart to remind him about the costume bunny ears he’d been wearing, so I was relieved when Dad came out of the house without them. Jonas, as my father likes to be called by his less-stuffy middle name, was the type of artist who felt he needed inspiration to do his best work. So, depending on the particular project, he could don a wide variety of artifacts to help get the old creative juices flowing. Sometimes I’d come home to find Jonas wearing a buffalo skin or with a fake shark fin sticking out of the middle of his back. If that weren’t eccentric enough, Dad also had a problem with getting the right word out, especially with what would be, to most people, common phrases. He’d blurt out butchered sayings like, The chicken that laid the golden leg or a stitch in time saves dimes. and be totally unaware of his mistake. Although Jonas was a constant embarrassment to me with my friends and his antics gave great ammunition for bullies, I had to admit that there was never a dull moment living with the old man.

By the time we pulled in front of the police station, the snow had really begun to come down. Although it was now the second week of January, I noticed the station still had it’s Christmas decorations lit around the exterior of the old brick building. Their eerie, out-of-season cheeriness made the ominous feeling in my gut that much worse as Dad stepped out of his pick-up and waved for Tobe and me to follow suit.

Toby, you’d better call your folks and let them know what’s going on. This may take awhile.

Yes, sir, Mr. Hayworth. Toby was so formal with my old man I half-expected her to salute him. She was one of the few people who looked up to him. Still, as Toby went to a payphone just outside the office, she and I both knew it was all for show. Her mom had moved out and disappeared months ago and, by now, her dad would be well on his way to his nightly ritual, drinking himself under the table at O’Meara’s pub.

These are serious accusations, Mr. Hayworth. Sheriff Wrigglesworth frowned from behind his desk as he turned his beady eyes on me. Is this true, son? I nodded, too sick in my stomach now to sum up even a simple one-word reply. Speak up. If what your father and this girl say really happened, there’s going to be some serious stuff hitting the fan. My dad turned to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

What are you afraid of P.J.? Is it those bullies?

For some reason, my Dad’s touch brought all those feelings of anger over his eccentricities to the surface. I wasn’t scared of the Wilsons. I could deal with them. I just wanted to keep my Dad away from the scrutiny of a narrow-minded small town. I shrugged Jonas’ touch away.

I don’t want to go through with this.

Sheriff Wrigglesworth rose from behind his desk and got so close to my face I could smell the remnants of his last cigar.

I don’t think you understood me, son.

I looked to my Dad and to Toby for support but their solemn faces made me realize there was far too much momentum in the room to back down. I hung my head in defeat as I blurted out what they all wanted to hear.

What Toby said is true. I knew I should feel safe. That reporting the Wilson boys would finally bring their reign of terror to a close. But, somehow, a little voice inside me said something was terribly wrong. The odd thing was, it wasn’t my voice.

CHAPTER TWO

The Trial

Toby Anne Woodruff, please take the stand.

The bailiff’s droll words seemed out of place when compared to the tension that was going on in the courtroom as Toby nervously made her way to the witness box and was sworn in. The defense attorney for the Wilson’s, a ferret-like man name Buchelli, was the best that money could buy. Former Senator Wilson, being the richest and most famous man in town, had spared no expense to keep his spoiled, mischievous sons out of jail and, at this point in the trial, it was beginning to look like his cash had been well spent. Buchelli had called Jim, Bruce and Ray Wilson to the stand in their own defense and, of course, they were perfectly coached into giving the same alibi for each other. They all lied with great effectiveness. Looking at the jury sincerely. each brother told the seven men and five women who sat in judgment nearly identical stories. They were completely across town, making a snowman in their back yard at the time of the crime. Things only went from bad to worse when I was called to testify. Buchelli had done exactly what I feared most. He played on the narrow-mindedness that was so prevalent in a tiny berg like Melville. While cross-examining me, he had subtly found a way to bring up my dad’s reputation as an oddball, hinting that Jonas Pierpont’s son might be a buffalo chip off the old bison and just as disturbed. Disturbed enough to cook up a story. Now, as Toby took the stand, it looked as if the jury would vote for acquittal.

Placing one hand on the bible the bailiff held before her, Toby earnestly put her other hand in the air as she was sworn in.

Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God.

I do. Toby subtly glanced my direction, giving me a slight smile to try and comfort me as the prosecuting attorney asked her to recall what she had seen that evening. It all seemed to go very smoothly, Toby’s sincerity and her straight-forwardness made her a powerful witness. The jury seemed to hang on her every word. Toby was so persuasive I was even beginning to allow myself to daydream. To think about the possibility of having the Wilson boys tucked away in some Juvenile detention center for three or four years, certainly long enough for me to graduate and get the heck out of Dodge.

Unfortunately, losing my mom has taught me that it’s not too wise to take things for granted. In fact, I think that’s what that Buchelli was counting on. In cross-examination, he lit into Toby like the rabid weasel that he is.

You say it was near dark when you saw the incident. Is that correct?

Yes, sir. Toby glared at Buchelli. He had been twisting the truth in the Wilson’s favor with his legal gamesmanship throughout the trial and she was understandably wary of where his line of questioning was going.

Yet you say you saw three boys holding your friend, P.J., under the water.

No, sir. Two boys had his face down in the river. The third boy was standing back laughing.

Buchelli took out a notepad, scratching something in pencil as he continued, My mistake. Two boys. And how far away were you when you saw them.

About fifty yards, I guess.

I have news for you, Miss Woodruff. You didn’t see Jim, Ray or Bruce Wilson or anyone else that night.

Toby’s face reddened. I did, too! They would have killed P.J. if my screaming hadn’t scared them off.

So you’re willing to swear to me, under oath, that at fifty yards away in near complete darkness, you could make out their faces?

Toby bit her lip, "I couldn’t see them clearly, but I know it was them."

Buchelli turned to the jury, making eye contact with each member as he addressed the next question to Toby. And can you tell me, my dear, how it is you can positively identify someone you readily confess you couldn’t see?

There was mumbling in the crowd. One of the jurors actually laughed under his breath. Toby, realizing what had happened, slumped her shoulders in defeat. At that moment, for some reason, I glanced at the defense attorney’s table where my eyes met Jimmy Wilson’s, staring back at me. Shielded by his brothers on either side so that only I could see, he discreetly held his hand in the shape of a gun and aimed at my head. Then, he pulled its imaginary trigger and smiled the most horrible smile I have ever seen.

CHAPTER THREE

Jonas Goes Digging

It’s late spring, just over two months since the trial ended. In school, the warmer weather has brought a sense of calm, with its balmy breezes trying their best to help me forget Jimmy Wilson’s ominous gesture in the courtroom last winter. It’s almost as though nothing ever happened. Almost. Strangely, since the Wilson boys returned to school after they were found not guilty, they’ve stayed completely clear of me and Toby. In fact, on the rare occasion when I pass Jimmy, Les or Bruce in the hallways, they seem to deliberately look away. I have to admit it creeped me out at first, but now that six uneventful weeks have passed since they were allowed to once again grace the halls of Melville High, you would think I should be able to relax. To put the whole thing behind me. So why can’t I? With things going so well, I could easily let my guard down if it weren’t for two things; Jimmy Wilson’s reputation for revenge and that odd little voice from the police station.

It continues to gnaw at my insides. That strange-sounding someone or something that spoke to me last January. I know my conscience and that definitely wasn’t what I heard that night in Wrigglesworth’s office. No, this was scratchy, high and squeaky – with a weird accent. A voice unlike anyone’s I can remember. Now, with the Wilsons finally leaving me and Toby alone, it would be really nice to forget about Jimmy’s little courtroom gun pantomime. Unfortunately, the words of that strange voice won’t let me. I wish I could pretend my mind was playing tricks on me due to lack of oxygen from nearly drowning or blame it on something else, but I can’t.

Beware for danger lies near. it said, sounding more like one of those dumb lines from some tacky old black and white Frankenstein movie than something frightening. Now, with things finally going so well at school, I want to forget about that odd little warning. Jimmy and his brothers have left me alone for the first time since I entered high school and I could easily get used to this. In fact, with things going so well, sometimes I wish I never heard that tiny voice. Unfortunately, the words it said keep popping back up in my memory like burnt toast from a broken toaster. They won’t let me stop looking over my shoulder. Maybe I’m over-reacting to what I think I heard. Then again, Jimmy Wilson just might be sick enough to act out again what he did for my benefit at the trial. Only this time with a real gun.

Hey, Hayworth. What’s happnin’? It was almost too much to comprehend. There, with every one of his pearly whites smiling at me, stood Jimmy Wilson. He casually slung his elbow over the top of my open locker door, waiting for my response with a sincere expression that could rival the most pious altar boy this side of the Vatican.

Not much. I managed to blurt out with as much calm as the designated turkey about to lose his head on Thanksgiving morning.

I suppose you and your girlfriend are wondering why me and my brothers been leavin’ you both alone? Jimmy leaned in, waiting for my response, his greased-back hair reflecting the fluorescent lights above us.

Toby’s just a friend. That’s all. I couldn’t conceal the irritation in my voice as Wilson reacted, stepping back a step defensively as his smile disappeared.

Whoa. Do I sense some hostility here? He extended his hand for me to shake. I just stared at him in disbelief.

Look. I’ll level with you. This wasn’t my idea. Dr. Chang got it in his head that you, me and my brothers need to move on. Let bygones be bygones and all that crap.

I still wasn’t buying it and Jimmy didn’t have any trouble reading my frown. He gave up on the handshake, slipping his fingers into the front pocket of his skin-tight blue jeans.

I can see Chang ain’t talked to you yet.

No. He hasn’t. I didn’t wait for Jimmy to respond. I shut my locker without looking up, heading in the opposite direction as quickly as I could without running. I had almost made it around the first corner when I heard the response that sent chills down my spine.

Don’t worry. He will.

Now, let’s get down to business. Dr. Ahn Chang sat puffing on his pipe. Despite bearing absolutely no resemblance to the father of psychiatry, our school counselor tries his darnedest to look as much like Sigmund Freud as possible. He wears the same cut of beard and glasses as the picture of Freud I noticed on his desk. Unfortunately, as the result of not moving to America from his native China until his late twenties, he always struggles badly with his R’s. Under normal circumstances, his butchering of the English language is a source of great school yard entertainment, but not today.

Jimmy, Bruce and Ray? He looked squarely at the three Wilsons who sat across the table from me as they nodded an acknowledgement in unison, ignoring the fact Chang actually said, Jimmy, Bluce and Lay?.

We’re all ears. Jimmy flashed his most winning smile to Chang as the counselor turned my direction, reading from his clipboard.

And Pierpont?

P.J. The name’s P.J. I was already furious at being made to attend this stupid meeting and using my real first name in front of my arch enemies was just about enough to send me over the brink. Surprisingly, none of the Wilsons so much as lifted an eyebrow at the mention of my super-sucky surname. Normally, they would have tormented me for weeks, tossing out Pierpont with a vengeance to anybody who’d listen. I could only assume that their good behavior must have been because Dr. Chang read them the riot act before I got there. The old man smiled at me politely, then struck a wooden match, lighting his pipe before jotting down a note.

P.J. it is then. And why do you think, P.J., that you’ve been asked to attend this little get-together?

I wasn’t asked. I was forced.

I glared at him as Ray leaned forward, addressing me from across the table. Don’t get all bent out of shape, Hayworth. We didn’t have any choice in this thing either.

For the first time, I actually trusted that the Wilsons were telling the truth. Mr. Chang confirmed that the school board had formally requested the counseling sessions after the huge hullabaloo the trial caused in town. Jimmy and his brothers were just as much a victim of the school’s meddling into our lives as I was.

We need to start at the beginning. Chang chimed in, looking straight at Jimmy.

Why do you think we are here, Mr. Wilson?

Search me. We didn’t do nothing wrong.

As far as the court decision in the trial, he was right, of course. However, despite my dad’s unpopularity in Melville, apparently there were a lot of other people in town who knew firsthand of the Wilson’s reputation as bullies. Even their father, the powerful Senator Wilson and all his connections, couldn’t stop the tidal wave of backlash from other parents whose kids had been bullied before me. They all felt that there was a good enough possibility that justice had not been served to threaten to vote out the entire school board. The school board, in turn, ordered the group therapy as part of restorative justice - so, here we sat.

It’s a funny thing about what happened next. I would never in my wildest dreams have thought I could ever feel sorry for Jimmy Wilson or either of his henchmen siblings. But I did. There, in that closed room over the last weeks of May and into June, I learned the reasons why the Wilson boys were the way they were. Dr. Chang had made us swear to keep whatever we discussed in our sessions private and I guess that’s the reason Jimmy, Bruce and Ray felt they could reveal what they did. It all came out, the beatings, the verbal abuse and the lack of affection from two parents who hated each other just a little more than they hated their own kids.

I was more tight-lipped, however. For some reason, I didn’t feel comfortable talking about my mother’s death or why it hadn’t affected me the way it did my dad. It’s still too much of a raw nerve. With the Wilsons listening on, I told Dr. Chang about the pressure of bad grades, of being too small for sports and not having friends. Stuff I thought would appease them. I suppose I was cheating by not opening up like Jimmy and his brothers did to me, but I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping things inside. When Jonas broke down almost completely after mother passed, he just couldn’t be there for me - or even himself. Dad went so far off the deep end that he didn’t leave his room for weeks. I was ten years old, but I had to take over the reins or we’d have lost the roof over our head or starved to death. I did odd jobs to buy food and Toby taught me how to cook the basics. It was almost three months before Jonas pulled himself together enough to take welding jobs again. I’ve forgiven him long ago for those lost months. But they changed me. To this day, I’ve never cried for my mother.

Although I can never honestly say that I enjoyed one of our sessions, towards the last few days of school they actually became bearable. With the Wilson boys opening up the way they did, it made me more understanding and less hostile toward them. It certainly changed my impression of what life was like on the other side of the tracks. It’d always looked at the fancy homes and beautifully manicured lawns of Melville’s wealthy neighborhoods with envy, wondering what life would have been like if my dad hadn’t broken with his upper-crust family. The stories that I learned in our sessions with Dr. Chang about the Wilson household changed all that for me. My dad and I might not have ever had a lot in our pockets, but we had something that I hadn’t realized was more precious. As much as I had envied the town’s rich folks, my coveting them paled in comparison with the jealousy the Wilson brothers felt for me. The simple love and respect that Jonas and I shared was at the root of why Jimmy, Bruce and Ray hated me so much.

As much as it’s been a revelation to learn that the dreaded Wilsons are secretly longing for a healthy family relationship, there was something that happened in the session yesterday that was even more mind boggling. Jimmy Wilson cried. The tough kid who sets fear in the hearts of nearly every underclassman, who deliberately hurt or maimed countless stray dogs and cats that had the misfortune of crossing his path on a bad day, the same Jimmy Wilson who, with the help of his brothers, has intimidated, punched and bloodied more kids than anyone can remember - broke down. The one and the same Jimmy who almost had me drowned for tattling sat in the counselor’s office wailing like a baby. Dr. Chang had asked a question about how things were going with Mr. and Mrs. Wilson and Jimmy simply had a meltdown. He was completely inconsolable for nearly the whole hour. Apparently his parents are going to file for divorce and his mother is moving back east to live with her sister. I guess I’ve misjudged him. Ray and Bruce had missed the session, probably because of what was going on with their parents. It was just me, Dr. Chang and Jimmy sitting there as the school’s biggest bully let tears flow like they were coming out of a spigot. Incredibly, as much as I never in my life thought it could happen - I genuinely felt sorry for Jimmy Wilson.

School ended for the summer on the same day of our final session as I happened to pass Jimmy W in the hall after the final bell. I surprised myself when the words came out of my mouth, Take it easy.

Toby abruptly turned and stared in disbelief as the leader of the Wilson gang smiled, walked up to me - and shook my hand. Sure will, Hayworth.

By now it wasn’t just Toby standing with her mouth hanging open, but nearly everybody in the hall who saw. They all were gawking. I’d forgotten for a moment that our sessions with the Wilsons had been confidential. No one, even Toby, had any idea what had gone on in those meetings. Jimmy Wilson looked up from our handshake to find himself the center of more attention than he apparently wanted as his smile went away. He clenched his fist, barking at the assembled students. What the hell you lookin’ at?

As everyone within earshot quickly looked away in fear of Jimmy’s fist, he turned back to me for a moment. Unseen by anyone else, he gave me a discreet wink - then turned and walked away. Instantly, my head felt as if it were going to explode from the incredible noise coming from between my ears. I was ready to scream from the pain as I noticed no one else heard what I could barely stand. It was the voice again. The same odd high scratchy voice. But this time, despite the cranked decibels, I couldn’t understand a word it was saying – only a strange shriek.

You’re late. My old man was in the back yard when I got home. Wearing ballet slippers and a pink tutu around his welding apron, he sipped a beer while he lit the charcoal grill with his propane torch. The community theatre had given him the consignment for a ballerina sculpture and he was having trouble getting any ideas.

Sorry, Dad. But you won’t believe what happened today.

It must be pretty amazing for you to be late for steaks. Jonas smiled as he held up two gigantic T-bones for my benefit. The end of the school year barbeque had been a part of the Hayworth tradition since before my mom died and this year Dad had gone all out.

So why don’t you set the tortoise while I commence to blacken these puppies.

The tortoise was actually one of dad’s sculpture throw offs that was conveniently flat on top. The reject reptile worked great as a picnic table as I set out bowls of steaming corn on the cob, potato salad and paper plates.

Jimmy Wilson shook my hand today.

Jonas practically dropped his spatula, Did you say shook or bit?

Not only did he shake it, he winked at me afterwards.

My dad measured me intently, I know you’re not allowed to talk to me about those meetings with Dr. Wang…

…Chang, Dad.

Fine. Wang, Bang, Chang, whatever. He took a big gulp from his beer as he went on. But what the heck could you guys possibly have discussed that could suddenly make the creepiest future felon in Washitaw County go suddenly all buddy-buddy?

I know what it sounds like. But he’s actually being nice to me.

Son, leopards don’t just go and change their stripes.

You mean spots, dad.

If I hadn’t seen Jimmy Wilson bawling his eyes out, basically revealing his soul in our sessions together, I would have been just as suspicious as Dad. But, much as I wanted to, I couldn’t break the rules Dr. Chang had laid out to not tell my father anything.

There’s something else.

I don’t know why I hadn’t thought to discuss it with Jonas before, but I guess the blinding headaches after my latest visit from the mysterious voice helped me decide to tell dear old dad that his son had a major league screw loose.

What exactly did it say? My dad pulled out a pack of cards from a dresser drawer as I watched him from the kitchen table. Was it a good idea to tell him? The more I thought about it, of course it was. As crazy as the whole idea of someone else’s words coming from inside my own skull, if there was anyone who would believe me it was the old man. He loved this kind of stuff.

The first time it gave me some corny warning like, Beware for danger is near or something like that.

My dad stopped shuffling the Tarot deck, studying me.

The first time? You mean you’ve heard it more than once?

I watched curiously as he started laying down the cards in the pattern my mom had taught him. Mother was half-Chinese on her maternal side and rumor has it that Grandmother Lee was a fortune teller of some renown in the old country. Although my mother only dabbled in it, family members gossiped that she might have inherited the sight from Grandma Lee because, whenever mom would do readings for friends, they always seemed to come true. Although grandmother had used traditional tea leaves to foretell the future, mom preferred her Tarot deck. I noticed, as Dad shuffled, that her cards were extremely old, with many worn at the edges from years of use. Now, Jonas was hoping to draw on some of the things that his wife had taught him about card reading to see what might be hidden from the naked eye for me.

The first time I heard the voice, the words were crystal clear. Today, though, I couldn’t understand a thing it said. It sounded like a dying cat or something.

My dad listened to my confession as he placed the final card in the center of a T-shaped pattern of Tarot cards, pondering it as he spoke under his breath.

La Mort. The picture on its face was unsettling, a hooded skeleton walking with a scythe in its hand.

Does that mean what I think it means? I asked as I fought back a nervous twitch. Dad looked over the top of his reading glasses to me, Beats me, P.J.

He walked to the bookshelf, searched for a moment until he found an old paperback, then returned to the table, opening it as he read.

La Mort: the death card usually implies the end of something.

Sounds creepy, Dad.

He read further a bit before closing the tarot book to look at me.

To be honest, your mother’s book says La Mort’s meaning is altered by how it’s positioned among the other cards. Look. I think this is you."

He pointed to L’Excuse, a card directly to the left of La Mort. This one is called the fool and your mom used to call her readings the fool’s journey. But, for the life of me, I can’t remember how it worked.

What about the book? I asked. "What does it say? Dad could see that he’d piqued my curiosity. Death was just sinister enough of a Tarot card to get my attention. Jonas read on for a moment, then he grinned. According to this, the way the two of swords is above and the ten of pentacles is below La Mort, it means you’re coming into a big change. There’s absolutely nothing about you dying."

Great, Dad. But that still doesn’t help me with this voice I keep hearing.

Jonas scratched his head in thought. Then he read out loud, Le Bateleur as he pointed to the card directly to the right of the death card.

I believe this one’s called The Magician. The picture of him looks supernatural enough. Maybe he’s the one you’re hearing, some lucky spirit of one of your mother’s ancestors.

I shuddered for a moment, Or maybe it’s Jimmy Wilson.

Tap, tap, tap… The knock at the door made me jump practically out of my skin. It was Toby. She always used the same pattern of three quick knocks to let me know it was her before, as was her custom, she simply let herself in.

Aren’t you out a little late? My dad nodded to the wall clock which read a little after midnight.

I couldn’t sleep. I took a walk and saw your place was lit up like a Christmas tree. She flopped down on the sofa, making herself comfortable as she looked my way. What’s up?

Dad discreetly tried to pick up the Tarot cards as Toby noticed them, abruptly sitting up.

Whoa, who’s the fortune teller?

No one, really. Dad was just trying to see if they could help me with something.

Like what? Jimmy Wilson going all buddy-buddy?

You two can talk about that to your heart’s content tomorrow. Young lady, do your folks know you’re out right now?

Toby shook her head as she spoke, No, sir. But…

…no Buts Toby. Dad turned to me, yawning.

Since you’re another night owl, why don’t you escort this pretty young thing home and I’ll go get some shut-in.

Toby grimaced. Being the consummate tom boy that she was, she absolutely hated being called anything that even remotely implied she was attractive.

Dad gathered up the Tarot book and removed his borrowed ballet slippers, tutu and welding apron before giving me an unusually long hug. I’m going to study Mom’s book a little more tonight. There’s probably nothing to worry about, but just be careful until I can make sure.

Dad fought back another yawn as Toby and I reached the door to leave. Giving in to the urge, Dad yawned again, stretching out his arms as the box holding the Tarot deck slipped from his hands. It fell to the floor, opening on impact as cards flew everywhere. I leaned down to help pick up the mess as I noticed every single Tarot card was face down - except one. La Mort.

CHAPTER FOUR

The Event

Wanna race? Toby shoved my shoulder teasingly as we walked under the last streetlight before reaching the short-cut through the ravine to her house

Not tonight. I’m too creeped out by what just happened.

Toby smiled impishly, If you ask me, maybe the embarrassment of losing to a girl might help get your mind off what just happened.

I wasn’t about to take the bait. Nice try, Tobe. But there’s more to it than I’ve told you. It was true. Toby had been my best friend since elementary school but, for some reason, I had decided to keep both her and my dad in the dark regarding my little secret messenger. Looking back, I guess I probably should have told them sooner, but hindsight is always fifty-fifty as my dad would say.

I’ve been hearing voices. I almost winced, unable to look directly at Toby for fear of her not taking me seriously. I wasn’t disappointed. When I finally got the courage to glance her way Toby was wearing a wry grin as she chuckled out her response.

Can I hear it, too, if I pull your finger? She extended a digit to demonstrate as I batted her hand away in irritation, surprising her.

No, I’m serious. I’m not…. A low groan from the underbrush beside the path cut me off.

…owwww. It was Jimmy Wilson. He was flat on his back, covered in dirt and leaves, with a large red gash running diagonally across his forehead. Toby got to him first, shaking him awake as she asked.

Are you alright? He looked at her in confusion.

Who are you? Wilson groaned as Toby gasped, trying to wave away the heavy smell of alcohol on Jimmy’s breath as he spoke again. Get lost. Leave me alone.

Fine. No problem. Toby took my arm, trying to lead me away as I turned back, pulling free of her grip.

He might be hurt.

Toby lowered her voice so as not to be overheard, He’s soused, Peege. Let him sleep it off.

I can’t. Maybe there’s some reason he’s like this. I suppose it was because of the way Jimmy Wilson had broken down with Mr. Chang, but, as much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t leave him there.

It’s me. P. J. I said to my very-recent nemesis as I kneeled over him, half expecting him to punch me. Instead, Jimmy rubbed his eyes to get a better look through the haze.

Hayworth?

I nodded as he weakly smiled for the first time, slurring his speech like Toothless Pete, Toby’s homeless friend, as he spoke again.

Boy, am I glad to see you.

Right. Toby piped sarcastically. She wasn’t buying it. I couldn’t help noticing she kept nervously looking around as if she half-expected to be ambushed at any moment.

What happened? I could hear the nervousness in my own voice as I posed the question to Jimmy. Toby’s cautiousness was rubbing off. This was near the same spot Jimmy, Ray and Bruce had nearly killed me last winter. That was bad enough, but I still hadn’t gotten my Dad’s recent Tarot-reading Death-card moment out of my head. If Jimmy Wilson was on the level, what if whatever hurt him was still out here?

Jimmy sat up with my help, his speech still hard to understand. It came out of nowhere.

Maybe it was a pink elephant? Toby quipped disdainfully. Because of her dad, she had little tolerance for anyone who overused booze and being a Wilson didn’t help Jimmy’s case. In his drunken state, it took Jimmy quite a while to grasp Toby’s sarcasm as he finally turned to her, frowning.

Where am I going to go now?

What exactly are you doing out here? Toby still wanted some answers.

Jimmy ignored her and looked me square in the eyes, I was running…taking the shortcut to your place. I think I hit a branch. That was believable. It was pitch black in the ravine and he was definitely full of enough booze to have missed a low-hanging tree limb. He seemed to sober up quickly as he turned to speak to me. I couldn’t find old man Chang and you were the only other person I could think of talking to.

Me? He wanted me?! My mind was traveling faster than gossip in a small town. Was this some kind of elaborate trick? Were Bruce and Ray lurking in the shadows nearby, waiting for the right cue word from their brother to do the Hayworth-held-underwater trick again? I already knew what Toby’s feelings were and I was leaning towards thinking the same way. Then, maybe it was the tears in Jimmy’s eyes or the look of desperation within them, but, somehow, that last day in the counselor’s office with him made me second guess my own gut instinct for flight. Whether Jimmy Wilson was lying or not, my fear was real. I was sure of that much at least. That meant that, tonight, I had to suppress an incredible urge to run for safety. I had to suck it up and do what my mother always told me, Help those who can’t help themselves. Even if they are dirt bag, bully liars who injure innocent animals. Alright, she really didn’t say that last part, but that’s what I was thinking when the next words that came out of my mouth surprised me even more than they did Toby.

Talk to me about what? What happened?

My Mom. My Dad. They’re… Jimmy started sobbing, his chest heaving in pangs of grief that rose and fell violently. Strangely, my first reaction wasn’t pity for