Friday, October 24

"Hi, Will!" Jenny bounced up to Will's locker between classes.

"Hey, Jen," Will said as he grabbed two books and stowed another away. A collection of loose papers, comic books, invention designs, candy wrappers, and and a few library books were detritus at the bottom of the locker.

"So …" Jenny got close to Will and whispered conspiratorially, "are you going to ask anyone to the Halloween dance?"

Will recoiled from her, and his face and neck turned red. "Dance?"

"Don't tell me you haven't heard! It was in the papers and everything!" When Will still didn't show recognition, Jenny sighed and explained, "Judge Gareth is having a Halloween party. A dance! He's funding it, at least. It's going to be here, at the school. It's part-dance, part-celebration for the founding of the town. Did you know New Gorlan was founded on Halloween? I didn't! Isn't that so fun? Alyss and Cassie and I were talking about going as the Sanderson sisters — you have seen that movie, right?"

Will was reeling from the news. New Gorlan didn't have dances. He'd heard of prom and homecoming, but those didn't happen at the school for some reason the principal and teachers never fully explained.

"So, are you going to ask anyone?" Jenny grinned at him. She followed his line of sight down the hall, where Alyss was filling her water bottle at the drinking fountain. "I have it on very good authority that she is currently un-asked."

A smile grew on Will's face. Alyss seemed to glow under the fluorescents, and even the ugly cement block walls appeared beautiful when near her. Everything would start with the dance. Will and Alyss would spin around the floor. They'd have a wonderful time and stick close together even after that night. Eventually, Will would ask her to marry him. They'd buy a house, and a dog, and have three children.

His fantasy withered as he realized it would require him to ask her to the dance. Tall, kind, intelligent Alyss had no reason to join short, B- average Will at anything in public. Alyss belonged with someone who could match her.

Horace Fumble paused at the water fountain and talked to Alyss. His eyes briefly met Will's, and Horace smirked. Will felt a painful, shameful stab of jealousy. He could only imagine the subject of their conversation.

"So?" Jenny hadn't lost any enthusiasm. "Are you going to ask her?"

Will slammed his locker shut. "I have to go."

"Don't wait too long," Jenny said to his back. "And can you see if Gilan's asked anyone!"

Will didn't hear her. He was too focused on the sick feeling in his stomach and the desperate need for fresh air.

Horace's long legs were too quick, and he cut off Will's escape. Horace put one arm against the wall and smiled down at him. "So, O'Carrick. You got anything for me today?"

"Go away, Horace," Will mumbled.

"What was that?"

Will tried to slip around him. A gaggle of freshmen unwittingly blocked the middle of the hallway, and Will was stuck. Behind him, Will smelled an ashtray. He didn't have to look back to know that Alda, Bryn, and Jerome were boxing him in.

Bryn knocked Horace's arm. Then he looked at Will like a fox appraising a rabbit. "I hear my dad caught you sneaking the other night." Bryn's father, Lance Keren, was a cop who often worked the night shift. He nodded at Alda. "You think he's trying to look in windows? Saw him talking to your sister."

Alda grabbed Will's shoulder in a painful grip, and Will was overcome with the stench of cigarette smoke. "That what it is? You got something for my sister?"

"Let go." Will tried to squirm away. Other students avoided the group.

"Maybe we should have a talk," Alda said.

"Outside," said Horace. He closed his hand into a fist, and his knuckles cracked. "I've seen you looking at Alyss, too. I'll bet you climb to to her window."

"No!" Will rammed his elbow back, but Alda side-stepped. Jerome grabbed Will's arm.

"Alda! What are you doing?" Jenny had concern on her bright face.

Bryn and Jerome dissolved into the flow of students, while Alda, with a grimace, released Will.

"We were chatting," Alda said.

"I don't like the way you chat," Jenny said. She looked up at Horace, who had a full foot on her since his last growth spurt. "And you! Were you chatting, too?"

"Of course not." Horace couldn't look her in the eye. "It was just talking."

"Talking and chatting are the same thing, Horace." Jenny frowned at both boys. She wrapped her arm around Will's shoulders. "Come on, we're going to be late."

Will accepted her companionship as far as the next corner. He itched to be alone. He spun out of her grip and dashed down an empty hall.

The door to the school roof was locked, but Will knew another way up. In the third floor janitor closet, there was a window wide enough through which he could slither outside. From there, it was a short climb up the drain pipe and over the narrow gable.

Large air conditioning units thrummed, and pools of murky water from the last rainstorm huddled in divots. Will picked his way through a field of dead bugs, ragged balloon skins, and brown leaves to a quiet spot that overlooked the city. Only the hospital and Morgan Gareth's home were taller than the school. One day, Will told himself, he would climb those for the view.

New Gorlan wasn't much. It was any typical small town, with a grid layout — except for those roads that swerved this way and that. A few parks dotted the town, and the vast expanse of the Atlantic ocean dominated the eastern horizon. The forest took up the west and north. It seemed to go on forever. There were no other towns in sight. The farthest building that Will had ever seen was the New Gorlan lighthouse, which was on a rocky island at the mouth of the harbor.

He sighed and settled back in his spot. He rested his head against the wall and looked up at the clouds.

A dark, bearded face looked down at him.

Will startled with a yelp and stood up.

Halt's impassive face watched. Several long moments passed, then Halt tossed a wrinkled bit of metal at Will's feet. "That yours, boy?"

This Halt seemed like a different person, compared to the uncomfortable man who had spoken at town hall. His hair was unkempt and badly cut, and while his beard wasn't overly long, it looked like it was never tamed, and it grew halfway up his cheeks and down his neck. Halt's eyes were almost black. He looked younger than Will had previously thought, perhaps early thirties compared to early forties. Halt's formal clothes added ten years easily.

"I asked you a question," Halt said. He pointed at the metal.

Will recognized it as scrap from the exploded rocket. He paled and looked fearfully at Halt. "Are you going to turn me in?"

"For what?"

"I don't know. But—"

"Do you want me to turn you in?"

"No!"

Halt shrugged. "Then I won't."

Will nodded. He picked up the rocket slag and turned it over in his hands. "We probably scared off all the animals."

"Yea."

"Sorry."

"It kept wolves from the petting zoo." Halt had a large knife on his belt, and he drummed the scabbard with his fingers. "Your friend made the powder?"

Will nodded. "We thought it would work."

"Need smaller granules."

"What?"

"Need smaller granules."

"Yea, I heard that."

Halt's brow furrowed. "Then why did you ask 'what?'"

"Because I didn't know what you meant."

"Then say that."

"Okay."

Halt rolled his hand, as if to say 'Go on.' "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Ask your question!"

Will cowered from the force of Halt's words. He thought he heard the deep voice echo. "What did you mean by smaller granules?"

"Your friend's powder was too coarse. That means it burns slower. The pressure built, and the rocket exploded. You need a faster burn."

Will worked the science over in his head and grinned. "That makes sense. I should tell him. I've got history with him now. Thanks, Halt!" He ran off for the window.

"Hey, boy!"

Will stopped. "Yea?"

"Stop skipping class."

"Right." Will waved at him and turned away. He wondered why Halt was lingering on the school roof, but when he looked back, Halt was gone.

Jenny bounced more than she walked, bobbing in time to a nameless tune in her mind. Her afternoon shift at Arald Smallman's grocery began in twenty minutes, at the top of hour, so she had time to meander through downtown. Evidence of the Halloween party was everywhere, from signs stapled to electric poles, to exciting costume ideas in the thrift store window, and even a display in the flower shop. Jenny admired the oversized skull made from black, green, and orange flowers; roses spilled from the eye sockets.

She didn't notice the shop door open, but she did notice when she walked head-first into Gilan's chest.

Stumbling back, Jenny would have fallen. Gilan grabbed her arm and pulled her upright.

"Are you okay?" Gilan asked. He was looking rugged in flannel and blond stubble, Jenny thought, like a dashing rogue. She didn't focus on the red veins in his eyes or the wrinkles in his clothes, hinting that he'd slept in them.

"For sure. Are you getting flowers for someone?"

"No. Trying for a job." Gilan jotted something on a small notepad then stowed it in his pocket. "Sandra's not hiring."

"A job? What about MacNeil? You used to work for him; you helped him build my family's deck."

Gilan nodded. "Tried. Not hiring."

"Fumble's?"

"Not hiring."

"You know, my dad said they're looking for people at the bank. Maybe you could be a teller." Jenny had never had much interest in her father's business, but if Gilan worked at the bank, Jenny imagined she would spend a lot more time there.

Gilan shook his head with a wince. "Not without a diploma. Probably not with one, either, if my dad's gotten to talking with him."

"Your dad? What's he doing?"

"It's the same as always, except, for once, it looks like he's following through. He thinks I'm a deadbeat, so, rather than support my efforts to move out and get a job, he runs me down to everyone in town."

"You'll find work. I know it." Jenny touched his arm in support. She reluctantly pulled away.

Gilan smiled at her. She didn't notice it wasn't a happy smile. "Never lose your optimism, Jenny."

She preened with the compliment. It gave her the confidence to ask, "Have you heard about the party on Friday? The Halloween party?"

"Judge Gareth's." He glanced at the flower shop window, where there was a full page newspaper advert for the vent. "I may have heard of it."

"Are you going?"

Gilan bit his lower lip, and it was all Jenny could focus on. "I don't think so. My life is a lot to deal with right now."

"All the more reason to party!"

"In that case, I'll see what I can do. Alright?"

"I'll be waiting for a dance." Jenny heard the words out of her mouth, and a deep flush warmed her face and neck. She bobbed her head in a goodbye and sped off without another word. Her smile was irrepressible. She couldn't wait to talk to Alyss.

The temperature dipped low that night, the first night of the season below freezing. Pauline had chosen a wool skirt and chunky cardigan for her date with Foldar. She hadn't liked the way she had looked in the mirror, but she had grown secure in her outfit when she and Folder were seated at a blustery table near the door.

"I hope you like Italian," Foldar said once their waiter left.

"Karina's is Italian now?" Pauline opened the menu. When she'd ordered from Karina's last week, the offerings had been decidedly German.

By the time their waiter returned, Pauline had determined her order and practiced saying it in her mind several times — mushroom and sausage pizza. When she was nervous, she found she stumbled over her words and didn't want that to happen tonight.

"Two shrimp scampi and a bottle of your finest champagne," Foldar said.

The waiter nodded and left.

Pauline couldn't bring herself to ask the waiter to return. She liked shrimp well enough. Foldar spoke most of the evening, mostly about himself. The few times he asked for Pauline's input, he clearly hadn't listened to her responses and bulldozed on in his oratory. When Pauline amused herself by folding her straw wrapper like an accordion, Foldar didn't comment.

All in all, it was a boring, disappointing night. Pauline tried to cheer herself up, as Foldar had paid. She would have preferred spending her own money on pizza.

Foldar paid and walked her to his car. "It's cold out tonight. Let me drive you. We can stop for ice cream. Maybe," he grinned, and his eyebrows bobbed, "a little more dessert after."

Pauline wrapped her cardigan tighter around her body. "Thank you, b-but I'd prefer to walk home."

"Then let me walk with you." Foldar proffered his arm. "You heard that crazy woodsman: there's coyotes out there."

"Wolves."

"Hm?"

"H-halt said it was w-wolves," Pauline said. Her voice fluttered on Halt's name. "And I-I'd like to walk alone. If you d-don't mind."

Foldar's dark eyes narrowed. "In fact, I do mind. Do you know how much this dinner cost?"

"A-and I appreciate you paying—"

"And I would appreciate walking you home."

Pauline was as tall as Foldar, but she felt small as his anger grew. She shuffled back on the sidewalk. She had pepper spray in her house, but she hadn't carried the small cannister on her person in years.

"P-please leave," she said, looking at the ground.

Foldar grabbed her arm, and his fingers dug in.

"L-let go."

"Pauline?"

Pauline took Foldar's surprise as a chance to break free from him. A lean figure approached down the street, wearing thin flannel over cotton, despite the chill night. He had a half-eaten burrito in one hand.

"Gilan," Pauline blinked several times, and found there was wetness in the corners of her eyes. "W-where's your coat?"

"I was out for food. Didn't think it'd get this cold." He motioned between her and Foldar, and his gaze stayed fixed on the well-dressed man. "Am I interrupting?"

"No!" Pauline made a shaky-handed show of straightening out Gilan's collar. "Not at all. I w-was just leaving. Walk with me?"

Gilan nodded and bit into the burrito. He held out his arm, and Pauline grabbed on like it was a life preserver.

Foldar's expression was a mask of indignation, but he didn't stop Pauline. He wrapped his hand around his car keys until imprints remained in his fingers. Finally, he started his car and peeled down the road with a squeal of rubber on pavement.

Gilan asked Pauline, "At least tell me you ordered the most expensive thing on the menu."

Pauline found herself shaking with a nervous laugh. "I don't even remember what I ate." The streetlights showed Gilan's face to be thinner than she last remembered. Patches of stubble on his jaw had been missed in that morning's shave. "Why are you sleeping in your car?"

"Short answer: Ferris O'Carrick. You knew my dad in high school, right?"

"He was a couple grades down from me. I didn't know him well."

"Has he always been an ass?"

Pauline thought back. Her memories of high school were hazy, as if she were remembering a movie she'd only half-watched. "He used to bribe the yearbook club to make sure he was pictured more than anyone else."

"Please don't tell me you ever went on a date with him."

"I wasn't nearly so desperate back then."

"Desperate?"

Pauline motioned for Gilan to keep eating, worried that his food would grow cold. "Every Christmas, my aunt makes sure to remind me that I'm turning into an old maid. She was married when she was twenty-four, you know. And I'm … older than twenty-four."

"You don't look a day over sixty."

She gasped and flicked his ear. She found herself smiling.

They turned onto Pauline's street. The houses were narrow and neat, each of them century-old discount Tudors and Queen Annes. Pauline's had a turret and wraparound porch.

"Are you going to the dance?" Gilan asked. He tossed his empty wrapper in a neighbor's trash can.

"I haven't thought about it." She scanned his young face for intention.

Gilan noticed, and he laughed quietly. "I'm not asking you. You're not exactly my type. I don't think I'm you're type, either."

"You believe you know my type?" They stopped on her front porch as Pauline took out her keys.

Gilan swatted at a few, fat bugs swarming the porch light. "I'd say your type is short, bearded, and grumpy."

Pauline dropped her keys. "Excuse me?"

"Don't act like you don't know about the rumors. I'm pretty sure no one's asked him yet."

"Thank you for walking me home, Gilan. You may leave."

He had a smarmy grin and cilantro stuck between two teeth. "Sometimes I see him skulking. Want me to put a good word in?"

"You're incorrigible." Pauline went to shut her door but stopped. Gilan paused in leaving the front step. "Thank you, Gilan. If you hadn't walked by, I don't know what would've—"

"Don't think about it. That makes it worse."

There was a lot of emotion in those words, and it hurt Pauline to hear. She saw the holes in his jeans, the stains on his shirt. "I heard around that you're looking for work."

"Nowhere is hiring. Not hiring me, at least. Sucks to have an influential prick as a dad. You think you're desperate … I actually begged Jory Ruhl for a part time gig." Gilan shuddered. "Never again."

"We're hiring at the library."

Gilan shook his head. "I asked Crowley already."

Pauline smiled at him. "The position just opened up. After all, someone needs to drop off the mail to that … puffed-up pigeon." She felt a little guilty for insulting pigeons. "Drop by tomorrow, and we'll work it out."

That was the first night in a long time that both Gilan and Pauline went to sleep feeling better than they had upon waking.

Thanks for reading!

AreiaCannaid - Thanks for the review! Horace does have Sir David for a dad. A few of the people I mixed around, to see what might happen. I actually pulled my idea on how David might be as a full time dad (i.e. Halt not there to take his teenage son away) from the characterization of him in your story, Hiraeth, which is one of my all-time favorite fanfics for RA. David seems like he'd have a bit too tight a hold on his son's actions, considering he lacks control in most other aspects of his life. Hence, Horace seeking out Alda, Bryn, and Jerome, even though they were his tormenters.