Stars Over Terabithia
Chapter Fourteen - The Dreary Day
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Bridge to Terabithia and no profit was gained
from the writing of this story. Terabithia was created by Katherine Paterson.

The sky was pale, dull and dark. The world felt plain, devoid of all color, yet also saturated with it. The wind didn't stir, yet the grass swayed to its whim and the rustling of the trees--which seemed decrepit and unmoving despite their alluring motion--was the only sound that could be heard.

The boy opened his eyes and suddenly the world was flat no longer. Instead it was rounding sharply, as if it had transfigured into a small planet. The trees rustled more with more vigor, sounding more violent than soothing. The grass had ceased its swaying, and instead went fully erect, seeming less friendly and less inviting.

The stage was set. The world was unpleasant.

The boy stepped forward as he closed his eyes once more, praying to whatever might be listening. If he couldn't see the world, then perhaps the world didn't exist? No, that was nonsense. Of course the world existed. Before he could reach any further into that thought, his consciousness was overtaken by a sudden sharp, agonizing pain. His eyes darted open, and the source was quickly located.

The grass had in fact become considerably less friendly. One metallic green blade protruded menacingly from the top of his bare left foot. The glossy steel was stained with dried blood, which seemed impossible. Blood didn't dry that quickly. Blood ran. Blood oozed. This wasn't blood.

The boy composed himself, suddenly aware that the pain wasn't physical. It was entirely in his mind. He felt as if he'd just undergone the worst sort of psychological torment; as if he'd just seen someone killed, perhaps someone he loved. He thought to collapse, vomit and cry, but he didn't carry one with that course. Instead he harshly pulled his foot free. It didn't sting, and once he was free of nature's threatening grasp, the rows of malevolent agriculture sprang back to their natural form. The boy also lacked any sort of injury, though the feeling of emotional helplessness was still very much intact.

It was then and then only that he realized that the world seemed to be playing in slow motion. It was striking that he hadn't noticed until now. He tried to run, to sprint, and while every muscle reacted swiftly to his brain's impulse, things seemed just as slow, just as drawn out. After merely moments, he felt exhausted. Heavy. Old.

This wasn't his body. His eyes were fixed on his hands, rugged and torn from a lifetime of experience, and his arms were built and hairy. His averagely built chest was instead ripped, as built as he'd ever seen anyone. He was taller than he should have been as well. He needed to find a mirror. He needed to make sure that he was still himself, that everything he was seeing was some sort of delusion.

That notion escaped him as he looked up. There was someone standing very close to him now, but also impossibly far away. He was young, a teenager, with a pale complexion and an eerie aura about his features. He looked angry and terrified at the same time, and as the dullness lifted, as the land leveled out and became flat, color spilled back into his field of vision. He knew immediately who the person before him was.

It was him. There was no mistaking it. This kid was the spitting image of the person gazing at him. The boy gasped. The teenager in front of him was him. He wasn't supposed to be looking at himself. He was himself. He should be over there looking back one whomever's body he was alienating.

There was suddenly an odd stillness, and he watched as the other him, the fake him seemed to flash out of existence before reappearing, his clothes torn and his face bloody., but his gaze just as eerie and intense. It was then that his real self--the one inhabiting this strange body--collapsed in agony. This was real physical pain. He was sure that his nose was broken. He instinctively moved his hands to his face to ensure that his glasses were intact, but of course, this body didn't wear glasses.

He was panting as he looked up at his imposter. He was towering over himself, looking beat-up, helpless and incredibly intimidating all at the very same moment. Then he was lying on his back, his head craned, his body stricken with more pain. The imposter looked worse off than he felt, blood running freely from his nose, the nondescript white shirt hanging more as blood-stained rags than anything else. One of his eyes was bruised and tightly shut.

There was a detail that he had overlooked, likely because he hadn't wanted to believe what he was seeing. A double-take forced him to accept it, however, and he could only stare in terror at the small pistol that was being aimed directly at him. At his face.

He didn't have the time scream before he watched himself pull the trigger.

- - - - - - - - - -

Jess Aarons and Leslie Burke's first Valentine's Day as a couple came and went with little fanfare. They would like to tell you that they just hadn't had time for such arbitrary holidays, or that they really didn't care, but the honest truth was that both of them had forgotten. Had it not been for the poorly crafted pink hearts that began to swallow the stone hallways of Lark Creek High, they likely would have slipped through the day without even realizing that they had let the date slip their minds.

They would also like to tell you that they had gone through some kind of last minute effort to obtain some sort of a gift for one another, but that would also be one of their many fascinating fabrications. Rather than go through the motions typically shown in cheesy Hollywood productions, they approached each other on the matter, and each felt incredibly silly upon realization that neither of them actually cared. They had each other, and as clichéd as that sounds, it was honestly how they felt.

As the trimester had changed, Jess and Leslie once again found themselves in the company of one another for their lunch period, as well as a dual blocked English class leading up to it. Janice Avery's classes had changed however, and she made a point to join the pair as often as she could. Janice had taken up Marching Band, and often spent her meal time practicing rather than eating.

Things had gone quite well for both of them in their home lives, all things considered. Leslie's mom's emotional stability seemed to have improved dramatically, though she was far from her ordinary care-free, Bill-accompanied self. She'd put some weight on, but Leslie would only point out that it was normal, and that once she had a bit more time to grieve, she would probably be disgusted with herself and get back exercising regularly.

Jack Aarons had become much more open, and had dropped a substantial amount of gruff from his personality. He still kept up the tough-as-nails image, but he smiled a lot more, and made it a point to spend time with May Belle, Joyce and even Jess as often as he could. He had also been working on the roof, specifically the portion sheltering Jess's bedroom. Jess helped him occasionally.

Brenda was still seeing Gabriel. She and Gabe had become almost inseparable, and Jess was happy one evening to overhear his father telling his mother that he hoped the two would marry. Jess hardly knew Gabe, but he did know that he liked him. Without really being aware of it, Jess took extreme pride in his ability to judge a person's character.

Though there wasn't exactly a whole lot going on, both Jess and Leslie had found it difficult to investigate the diary of Valarie Cerone any further. Leslie had read it cover-to-cover and was quick to swear that she hadn't read anything suspicious aside from that final entry. It still nagged at Jess's mind now and again, especially the bit about the girl's boyfriend. The final entry stated quite plainly that he wasn't of Italian descent, yet his name was Tony. There were non-Italian Tonys out there of course, but something about that detail didn't sit well with Jess.

It was a cold, rainy day in March when Jess was approached by Renick shortly after class and only a few moments before the lunch period. Aside from class, Jess had had very little personal interaction with his favorite teacher since the incident with Miss Edmunds, and to see him in a classroom other than his own was oddly startling. The young instructor seemed tired then, and his features were beyond his years, but as Jess heard news of Miss Edmunds' slow recovery, he'd also begun to notice drastic improvements in Renick's state of being.

"Jess, might I have a word?"

Jess was still cramming his books into his backpack. He seemed to have fallen into the habit of managing to unload its contents--books on psychology, algebraic equations, history, science and literature--over the course of a single class. Leslie had gone on ahead to lunch, quietly proclaiming to her boyfriend that she really needed to use the bathroom before rushing out the classroom door.

"Sure," Jess said, zipping the bag and turning his attention to his teacher. He was happy to see Renick's normal friendly face rather than the somber, shadowed mask he'd been wearing over the past few months. "Leslie's waiting for me though."

"Could I talk with you after school then? I can give you a ride home."

Jess hesitated, and then nodded. Since the Scott Hoager incident, he'd been a little hesitant with letting Leslie do anything involving school by herself, however, Janice Avery had made it a point to announce that she would be riding the bus to spend the day with Leslie first thing that morning.

Lunch was uneventful. Janice and Leslie did a lot of talking and Jess mostly say about, his mind wandering off to think about Valarie Cerone's diary, among other things. He also found himself thinking about Miss Edmunds and the upcoming trial of Frank Cerone. All of these things seemed connected by a name or an event.

"Earth to farmer boy."

Janice's voice startled Jess out of his reverie. He gave her an irritated glance, which softened rather quickly. Janice looked amused, though not quite so much as Leslie. His girlfriend wore a smirk, and it seemed almost as if her pupils were smiling.

"Sorry, what?"

Janice sighed and threw her arms up, slapping her palms on her legs in an extreme overdramatized effort. "I asked you if you were going to the spring dance next week."

Jess's eyes snapped to Leslie and then back to Janice. The former bully was looking at him expectantly, as if his answer would tell her everything that she needed to know to succeed in life. It was rather unnerving.

"I didn't realize there was a dance next week," Jess said honestly. He took a large bite of the terrible tasting school hamburger, but managed to stomach it given the amount of time he needed to buy. The seconds that it took him to chew and down the mouthful went by uncomfortably, with no one uttering so much as a syllable. "Probably not, no."

"You could go with me."

Jess's face went pale and his eyes went wide, immediately locking with Leslie's, which shared a similar state. He felt cold and started to sweat at the exact same time, which was telling in and of itself. Janice Avery had just asked him out. To a dance. He wasn't at all sure what to do. He and Leslie had opted to keep her in the dark for a while regarding their relationship, and that decision seemed to be backfiring badly.

"Uh, well..." Jess stammered. "I guess I...well...maybe...hmm." He flashed Leslie his best What-The-Heck-Do-I-Do-Here expression and all at once, Janice cracked a wide grin and started laughing.

"You two are terrible at this," she said in an amused voice. "I hope you're never trusted with a national secret or anything. You really are awful!"

Jess and Leslie both looked confused and horrified.

"It is a matter of public record," Janice began, putting a very official tone to her not-quite-feminine voice. "At approximately 7:26 AM on March the ninth, Jess Aarons and Leslie Burke were seen holding hands and kissing by one Eric Hatcher as he passed their place of transportational pick-up to their place of learning."

"I don't think' transportational' is a word Janice," Leslie said, sounding slightly amused. Janice gave her a looked and rolled her eyes before looking back to Jess, at whom she laughed slightly upon seeing that he had flipped open his dictionary and had begun reverently flipping through the T section.

"Oh stop," Janice said, slapping Jesse's shoulder and attempting to sound angry. "Now, when did this happen? Beanpole here was supposed to let me know the second someone dug your head out of the mud so that you could make out with this poor girl. She's been waiting for like a year or something."

Leslie's face had gone from amused to resembling a lighthouse equipped with a red bulb. Had the room been dark, her face would have likely been visible. Jess laughed.

"Christmas."

"WHAT!?" Janice might as well have moved the conversation to Renick's office and flipped on the loudspeaker. Every head at the nearby tables turned in their direction, all attentive faces screwed up in curiosity.

"Guess I put off telling you a few seconds longer than I should have." Leslie said.

Janice spent the few remaining minutes of the lunch period with her head on the table, shaking her head comically every time one of them attempted to speak to her or to get her to talk. When the bell rang, they all stood up and Janice marched away without a word. Jess and Leslie could both tell that she was just messing around and being overdramatic as always, and chose to humor her.

The rest of the day was interesting , to say the least. Neither Eric Hatcher or Janice Avery seemed particularly fond of keeping secrets, something that Jess planned to point out to her the next time that they met. After all, she'd made a point at telling he and Leslie how bad their secret-keeping capabilities were. By sixth period, it seemed as if the entire school knew, and by seventh, Jess was under the distinct impression that absolutely zero members of the student body were surprised by the development. Many more than Jess would have guessed had already believed the two of them to have already been a couple.

At the end of the day, Jess met Leslie at their locker. He'd forgotten to tell her that he wouldn't be riding the bus home, but she was fine with it and hurried off quickly to join Janice.

Mr. Renick wasn't in his office or his classroom, and Jess found himself frustrated pretty quickly, thinking he had missed the bus for no reason. He finally found the young principal moving energetically down the stairs from the second floor. He didn't look particularly happy or upset, but something definitely had him excited.

The two of them went to the psychology classroom, as the principal's office was too frequented by visitors. Renick closed the door and took a seat on a student desk in front of Jess, his feet resting on the small chair.

"How are things, Jess?"

Jess regarded his favorite teacher with uncertainty. He was sure that the man had asked him to stay after school for something a little more pressing than a simple conversational catch-up. Still, we wasn't yet prepared to question Renick's motives. He carried on with some light explaining of recent months, including his budding relationship with Leslie. Like everyone else, Renick didn't seem at all surprised by the news, though he didn't do well to hide his grin.

"Your panic attack," Renick said plainly. It took Jess a moment to remember, and it came to his attention immediately afterward that this was a very rainy day and that he was nowhere near Leslie. "Have you had anymore experiences like that? Are things under control?"

Truthfully, Jess hadn't thought about that incident in a very long time. It seemed like years ago, despite the fact that it had only happened shortly before the holidays. More than a lot had happened since then.

"I haven't had one," Jess said. "Really, I've had a lot going on. I really haven't had a lot of time to think about it too much. Maybe I'm finally over it."

Renick looked doubtful, but stood and paced away from Jess. The teenage boy felt as if he should leave, but wasn't so sure that he'd been dismissed. Renick seemed pensive, as if he was seriously considering the best way to approach the next step in their encounter. His observations were spot on.

"Jess," Renick turned back toward him, looking troubled. "What does the name Valarie Cerone mean to you?"

Jess could feel his jaw drop and his eyes go wide. This really had been the last thing he would have ever expected anyone other than Leslie to bring up. What was worse was the tone that the conversation was taking. Jesse felt almost as if he was being interrogated.

"I'm not sure who that is."

"Don't lie to me Jess." Renick shook his head and reached behind his desk, revealing a solitary tome. It looked familiar instantly, but it took a few moments for realization to set in.

It was the diary.

"How did you get that?" Jess stammered, becoming even more uncomfortable. This didn't feel like an interrogation anymore. It was one.

"The very question I was about to ask you," Renick said, taking back his seat in front of Jess, diary in hand. "How does a girl like Leslie Burke come across a diary that hasn't been written in for years? Why does a girl like Leslie Burke and her very close friend take such a keen interest in something so private and personal? I have to wonder."

Whatever excitement he had seen in Renick's posture prior to this meeting was gone. A very dark shadow had been cast over the man. He was every bit as old, tired and depressed seeming as he had been weeks before.

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he felt foolish instantly. He'd seen too many movies or something. "What's it to you?"

"Valarie Cerone was a person, Jess," Renick said. "She was a person with hopes, dreams and ambitions. She poured her heart into her diary, but it was never meant to be read. I took care to get rid of that diary, yet it finds its way back through my students. When I saw the two of you with it, I hoped to prevent you from digging deeper by getting rid of the last page. The entry should never been seen by prying eyes. Still, I've watched the two of you since then. It seems to have only stirred more interest from the two of you. Tell me Jess, why is that? What have you discovered?"

"Valarie Cerone," Jess began. He didn't attempt to hide the fear in his voice. "She was murdered by her father. His was arrested or something. He's having a trial soon."

Renick kept his gaze firmly planted on Jess. He looked a margin more calm than he had before, but he was still very intent, very aware.

"All this time and that's all you've pieced together?" Renick shook his head. "I can't believe that Jess. You're a good deal more intelligent than that."

Jess didn't know more than that, but he really wasn't sure how to proceed. He almost got up and darted for the door. The last few minutes had changed his impression of Mr. Renick. He wasn't at all sure that he liked the man anymore.

"It doesn't make sense," Jess said finally, speaking what he had been thinking for over a month. "Why would her father want her dead? How could he get away with it if he did pull it off? Why was her having a non-Italian boyfriend such a big deal? What happened to him? Why didn't he come forward after she disappeared and tell the police everything he had seen and heard? Lastly, sir, if this was such a pressing matter, why isn't Leslie here with me? She's just as involved as I am."

"You and Leslie have both taken a risk with that diary," Renick said. "You're right. Valarie Cerone is the daughter of Frank Cerone, the mob boss. She was in danger living with her father. You're a bright boy, and you're going to figure it out. I'll just spill it. Nothing happened to her boyfriend. He didn't want to come forward without his girlfriend's consent. He was a fool.

It took a traumatic event to change his mind. He eventually did come forward anonymously, losing the love and trust of the girl he cherished. She was given a new name, but she was hardly relocated. Instead, she was placed just under her father's nose in the protective custody of a man that would become more of a father to her than Frank ever had been."

Renick reached into the front pocket of his shirt and produced what looked like a wallet, only different. At that same time, Jess snapped his head toward the classroom door as it closed. An aging man with a small white beard stood with his hand pressed against the solid wood. He wore a black suit.

"Jess, this is Undercover Agent Harold Edmunds," Renick said. Jesse's eyes went wide. "He's a good friend of your father's."

Harold Edmunds was normally called Bob by the people of Lark Creek. He'd moved to the area a long while back with his granddaughter, Julia. He was supposed to have been retired, though retired from what Jess had never really heard.

The room was silent for a few moments before Renick tossed the odd looking wallet onto the desk in front of Jess. Jess looked down at it intently, his eyes still wide, but widening even further. There was an undeniably accurate picture of his teacher and principal on the identification card, but these were no ordinary credentials.

Thomas Anthony Renick
Special Agent, Virginia Branch
Federal Bureau of Investigation

What caught Jesse's attention further wasn't the apparent revelation of Renick's government affiliation. It was his middle name. Anthony.

He could have been wrong, but that possibility never entered his mind. In the mind of Jess Aarons, everything clicked solidly into place.