Summer Love

Summer. When the crickets play lullabies as the fireflies buzz softly. When the breeze rustles the overgrown grass, carrying sweet dreams into the fragile minds of small children. When the scorching sun sets in a beautiful array of fiery colors to be replaced by the cool night. Summer is all of these things. But above all, summer is when young men and women take leave of their senses and are enmeshed in the blissful spell that is romance.

It was on a summer day that today's tragic love story begins. A dashing young man named Calder Pillay was strolling down the street with a bounce in his stride. His heart pounded with anticipation. He rummaged around in his pocket with his sweaty fingers, his mind reeling. This is the day, he said over and over again. Today was the day Calder would gather his courage in one almighty moment – he was going to ask Petra Andalee out on a date. It would undoubtedly sap all of his strength and leave him senseless for several hours afterwards, but if the magic word came out of her sculpted lips, it would be worth every painful second of it.

As he approached her house, he stopped. Checking his reflection in a muddy puddle on the sidewalk, he smoothed his hair back for the umpteenth time that morning and made sure that there wasn't any broccoli in between his teeth. He pulled out a bottle of Binaca, sprayed twice, pocketed the bottle, and flashed himself a dazzling (but anxious) smile in the murky puddle.

Taking a deep breath, he began to ascend Petra's porch steps. His heart beat faster, and faster, and faster, and faster –

And then it almost stopped altogether.

Calder heard a voice floating out of Petra's kitchen window. The voice was not musical, nor did it make him think of sweet birdsong as Petra's did. No, it was not Petra, but… Calder let out a fruit-scented gasp. He knew that voice.

Tommy Sigovia's voice rang out, piercing the fresh air with its foul sound. Calder's fists tightened around the pentomino he had memorized so well, – the 'P' – his knuckles white. He was so outraged that Tommy and Petra were alone together that he almost didn't hear what Tommy was saying: "… out with me?"

Calder's jaw dropped. He could not believe what he had just heard. Just to make sure, he took the 'T' pentomino out of his pocket and stuck it firmly in his ear, twisting it around several times. When he pulled it out again, the end was covered in some orangey mold. His ear felt cleaner already. But his momentary relief vanished when he heard a voice that could have been an angel's saying, "Go out with you? On a date?"

What followed was what seemed to Calder to be the longest silence he had ever heard. It angered him to endure it, because it was his silence – the silence he had always envisioned that would occur after he asked Petra out. However, instead of the passionate "Yes, Calder!" that the silence of his daydreams had always ended with, this silence was broken with a heartfelt cry of "Oh, Tommy! Yes! Of course I'll go out with you!"

Calder was dumbstruck. It took his brain several moments to comprehend what had just happened. Petra. Tommy. Together. Calder could not handle it. It was too much. As he ran from Petra's porch, he threw the 'T' pentomino into the puddle he had used as his mirror. As his pounding footsteps faded, the 'T' deteriorated into a hundred tiny pieces, eventually sinking into the puddle's murky depths.

The next week was torture for Calder. No matter where he went, Petra and Tommy were there. They were sipping smoothies on sunny benches in the park, taking strolls along the lake lit by the setting sun. Calder kept running into them, but always darted away whenever he saw any signs of lovey-dovey activity.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Calder had seen the couple all over town. He thought he might take his chances at the University, hoping that he could at least get some peace and quiet there. He was finally calming down when he heard a laugh – not just any laugh, but that pure, resonating music that he had come to love – and hate – so much. Trembling violently, he turned on the spot to see none other than Petra and Tommy stretched out in the dewy grass. There was an open picnic basket beside them, and Tommy was wiping the breadcrumbs off Petra's chin. They smiled at each other, then leaned in for the kiss—

Calder ran. He didn't care where he was, just where he wasn't. He wanted to keep running, running out of Hyde Park, out of Chicago, out of Illinois. As long as he never had to see Tommy Sigovia's face to close to his beloved Petra's again, he would keep running and running.

However, Calder's own physical limitations forced him to pause to catch his breath. Panting, he looked up to see where he was. His ragged breath caught sharply in his throat. He was outside the Art Institute.

So many memories flashed in front of his eyes – this had been a monumental place for the entire country. It was the destination of the Lady Writing, the Vermeer painting that had been stolen, only to be rescued by Calder and Petra when she needed them the most. Calder just stood there for the longest time, reflecting on all of the potentially romantic moments they had shared. What should he do now? The only woman he had ever truly loved had been snatched away from him – just like the Lady had been snatched away from the people who loved her the most, the art-lovers of the world. Of course, the man who had stolen the Lady had died—

And then it came to him. An idea so crazy, so wild, that no one in his or her right mind would dare to see it through. Calder had accomplished the nearly impossible before, though, so that aspect of the idea wouldn't be a problem. And it all fit so perfectly – so many patterns cropped up all over the place. The Lady's captor had been Tommy Sigovia's stepfather. He had stolen the Lady from people who loved her, and then he had died. Petra had always been so much like the Lady, so it made sense that the one who took her away from someone who loved her (Calder) had to die as well.

But how to kill him? thought Calder. He had never planned a death before, and finally appreciated just how hard the job of a contract killer is. Of course, he wasn't getting paid with cash by some shadowy figure in a large armchair, but Petra would be payment enough.

He was trying to remember the names of poisonous plants he had read about when he suddenly remembered his pentominos. He dug around in his pocket, then pulled out the 'I'.

" 'I' for what?" Calder said aloud. Beads of sweat were trickling down his face as he struggled to think of what the 'I' could symbolize. One or two people walking by threw him a confused glance, but Calder wasn't paying attention. Investigation? That much was obvious. Incapacitation? Yes, but how? He observed his surroundings to get an idea. His eyes brightened as they fell upon the building in front of him: the Art Institute. With a hungry look in his eyes, Calder jumped up the steps three at a time.

The building was quiet – it was a nice day, so most people were outdoors enjoying the fair weather. Even if there weren't many people, though, there were countless works of art. Calder was overwhelmed – where to begin? Well, he said to himself, the pentominos have gotten me this far. Once again, he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a pentomino – this time, it was the 'F'. Unsure of what else to do, he started browsing the paintings, looking for one that began with an 'F'.

Calder saw many paintings and even some sculptures that fit his current criteria, none of which were what he was looking for; he doubted he could use flamingos or fairies or French scenery to dispose of Tommy. He was just about to reach for another pentomino when a painting caught his eye. He halted and observed it carefully.

The painting depicted an enormous staircase carpeted with velvet. The banister was made of dark, polished wood. At the foot of the staircase there lay a mangled body, while at the top nothing but two glowing eyes were visible. Holding his breath with excitement, Calder turned his gaze to the metal plate beside it.

" ' The Fall,' " Calder read aloud, "by Remerev Sennjaho." Elated, Calder gripped the 'F' pentomino. This was it. As he practically skipped back home to Harper Avenue, a plan was already formulating in his mind.

Tommy Sigovia was taking a pleasant but lonely stroll down to the University. He was planning to meet Petra there at noon, but he had left home two hours early, just to be safe. The scorching sun was beating down on his back as he made towards a leafy oak outside Delia-Del Hall. Relieved, he sat down in its refreshingly cool shade, leaning against the knotted trunk. A smile danced across his face as he imagined the look on Petra's soft face when she saw that he had been waiting over an hour for her. Tommy was sure that it would at least give her a glimpse at his true feelings for her. It had taken all of his courage to ask her out, but in the end, his fright did not matter because she had accepted more than whole-heartedly.

Of course, Tommy felt a twinge of guilt whenever he thought about Calder. Calder had known Petra first, and he was the one who solved the Vermeer mystery with her. But still – Calder and Petra had never seemed to connect the same way that Tommy and Petra did. In fact, Calder had been trying to get them to become friends with each other from day one. It almost seemed as if Calder wanted Petra and Tommy to develop feelings for each other. Well, thought Tommy, whether he willed it or not, Petra and I have recognized and acknowledged our mutual affection, and there's nothing Calder can change about that now.

Maybe it was because he was thinking about Calder, but he could've sworn that he heard Calder calling his name. He looked around, but no one was there. Tommy shrugged. It must have been his imagination. He was considering taking a little nap when he felt a hard tap on his shoulder. "Tommy!"

Tommy yelped and jumped to his feet. A wave of relief washed over him when he saw that it was only Calder.

"Calder!" Tommy exclaimed, a little shaken. "It's been awhile!" And it was true – Tommy hadn't seen Calder for over a week. Calder had changed a lot over that week – his face was sunken and pale, and there was almost a hungry look about it. His bloodshot eyes were framed with deep blue circles, and his hair was filthy and matted. All in all, he strongly resembled a half-dead raccoon. Of course, Tommy was a well-rounded young man, so he said nothing about Calder's frightening appearance.

"Yeah," rasped Calder. "It's been awhile." Tommy thought he sensed some bitterness in that statement, but immediately scolded himself. It was wrong of him to make any assumptions. After all, he and Calder had been friends for a long time. They could trust each other.

"So, what've you been up to lately?" Tommy asked cheerfully. "Pentominos treating' you all right?" He was trying to worm a smile out of this new, gloomy Calder.

Calder, however, didn't even blink. He merely grunted in assent.

This worried Tommy. Something was obviously bothering Calder.

"What's wrong, Calder?" he said, frowning. "I can tell something's on your mind."

Calder's eyes widened. If Tommy hadn't been so polite, he would have flinched. There was something maniacal about Calder's stare…

"What's wrong?" repeated Calder. "What's wrong? I'll show you what's wrong." It seemed that his entire body was shaking as he slowly reached into his pocket and, just as slowly, pulled out a pentomino. Tommy squinted, trying to recognize the pentomino – it had been such a long time since he actually paid attention to those toys. It took him several moments, but then he realized that Calder had taken out the 'P'.

Tommy stiffened. " 'P' for Petra," he mouthed. He watched with wide eyes, frozen with fear, as Calder clenched the pentomino in his fist. Then, ever so slowly, he opened his fist again. The only noise in the entire campus was the muffled thud as the two pieces of the broken pentomino fell to the grass.

Tommy's stomach lurched. That wasn't hunger in Calder's eyes – it was bloodlust. Instinct told him to run, and he did just that – he turned tail and made a beeline for the nearest building. Scared for his life, he threw open the thankfully unlocked doors of Delia-Del Hall and rushed in. Tommy could hear Calder's angry battle roar and pounding footsteps as he ran up the magnificent staircase. His lungs were screaming for air as he forced himself to keep going up, up, up. Calder was gaining.

Suddenly, Tommy heard a hoarse scream. He wheeled around to see that Calder had slipped and tumbled down the four flights of stairs that he had climbed in his effort to attack Tommy. Heart rising to beat in his throat, Tommy bounded down the staircase.

He smelled the blood before he saw it. Nausea overwhelmed him as he struggled to keep his balance. Grabbing the banister for support, he forced himself to look.

He nearly retched.

At the foot of the stairs lay Calder's motionless body. By the looks of things, his head had hit a statue of a monkey – hard. Trembling, Tommy took his cell phone and dialed for the police. He hastily explained the whos, whats, wheres, and whens to the officer on the other end, but left out the why part because it confused even him. Once the man had hung up, Tommy couldn't hold it in anymore. He leaned over, and was sick all over the side of the polished staircase.

A stifled sob broke the uncomfortable silence. Tommy turned to see pearly tears running down Petra's angelic face. She took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. Tommy patted her consolingly on the back, a look of pure misery etched onto his face. He cast a gloomy look in the direction of the grave. Figures in black were walking solemnly away. A solitary crow cawed twice, then flapped from his perch in a long-dead tree to sit atop the headstone. The undertaker, a dirty man with a lazy eye and a weary old horse, stood beside the grave, his shovel in the dirt and his eyes downcast. The sun was slowly sinking behind the hazy Chicago skyline, casting the graveyard in an eerie twilight.

Petra continued to weep. Tommy put his arm around her shoulder, a tear falling down his face as well. This was hard for both of them. Calder had been his friend, too, and even if in the end he proved to be homicidal, for the most part, he had been a good friend. It pained Tommy to attend the funeral, especially since he felt that Calder's death was his fault.

As the crow let out a throaty caw, the undertaker looked up. He threw his shovel over his shoulder and walked silently towards his tethered horse. When he passed the crying couple, he gave them a sympathetic nod. He untied his midnight-black steed, hopped on, and began to ride off into the sunset.

The anguish was unbearable. To help ease the pain, Tommy pulled a crumpled bag of M&M's out of the pocket of his dress pants. He doubted there would be any left. Nevertheless, he miserably sifted around the bag with his index finger. To his surprise, there was a single piece left. Wondering if it would still be intact, he fished it out. It was red.

Just as Tommy was pondering what to do with the crumbly M&M, Petra blew her nose particularly loudly. A sudden idea struck him – he could turn this depressing moment into a happy one.

Tommy nudged Petra softly on the shoulder. Sniffing once, she looked up at him with her puffy but still gorgeous eyes. Tommy held up the M&M. "Red," he said simply.

In a voice that was barely a whisper, Petra said, "Love."

And with that, they entered a bone-crushing embrace. In Tommy's mind, there was no one but Petra. She and her happiness were all that mattered to him now. The same went for her – nothing but Tommy was on her mind.

They stood there for the longest time, sobbing into each other's shoulders. By the time the crow cawed once more, the moon had risen and a few lonely stars were dotting the polluted sky. They gave each other heart-filled smiles, then, hand-in-hand, they strolled out of the graveyard and into the beautiful summer evening.