Chapter 5
Vera stood outside of a small building made from white-painted brick, a red neon sign barely illuminating the name "Harvey's" in casual cursive writing in the afternoon sunlight. Greta and James had said they would meet Vera out front, but seeing as they had had some errands to run beforehand, she figured it wouldn't hurt to take her time getting there.
Absentmindedly she played with the hem of her shirt as though it didn't fit properly; she had spent several minutes back home trying to decide what to wear before settling on a pair of jean shorts and light purple top. Had someone been watching her, they would have thought she'd never been out with other people before. Vera didn't care though. Her shyness always won out in situations like this that involved new people, and to be honest she would rather start out seeming a little more reserved – if not plain – before relaxing and fully opening up to someone she didn't know that well.
"Vera!" the sound of Greta's voice pulled her from her aimless thoughts and she turned to see the blonde and her cousin coming across the road towards her, Greta waving her arm animatedly while James preferred a less conspicuous display by giving her a warm smile.
Vera smiled back at the two and gave a small wave. "Hey, thanks again for doing this, guys. I know you probably had other plans for the day," she expressed her gratitude as they approached.
"Not at all. Sorry for keeping you waiting," Greta replied in return.
"Shall we?" James offered and pulled on the diner's door, holding it open for his cousin and Vera as they entered the small building.
The inside was cozy and charming, with red walls and a black and white tiled floor that matched the red leather booths and tables that littered the inside. Opposite the entrance a bar counter stretched around the back wall and memorabilia from the 1950s were scattered and hung around the space.
Very 1950s indeed, Vera thought to herself with a smile as they took their seats in a booth, taking comfort in the old-fashioned quaintness of the diner and its atmosphere. The three of them ordered a round of soft drinks when a waitress in matching 50's attire with curly brown hair came by, and Vera settled on – at the behest of Greta – a double bacon cheeseburger with fries that was probably as good as it was artery-clogging.
"So," Greta shoved a couple fries in her mouth, "where are you from, Vera? Most people who come here aren't really from anywhere. As I said before, Derry isn't on the map because of some big invention or famous person, so it's unusual for someone..." she paused, fishing for the right word, "'younger'… to come here to work? I don't know. Most people who live here are born, raised, and die here."
"Yeah, I kind of figured as much," Vera nodded and took a bite from her burger. "I'm from down south, in Georgia; grew up a city girl. But maybe I had too much of the city life, and that's why I'm here," she shrugged as if unsure of the answer. Liar, a voice in her head shot back at her. You were indecisive, hesitant, and that cost you. That's why you're stuck here on a 'plan B' trip organized by your parents, trying to push off your anxiety of getting a real start somewhere.
"Shut up, Vera," she mumbled to herself in annoyance, hiding her words behind the burger held to her lips. "And what about you guys?" she inquired after taking a large bite. "Derry-born and raised?"
"I am, but Greta's from the next county over – though that might as well be the same place," James informed her with a nod in his cousin's direction while taking a large bite of his own burger.
"Yep, good old middle-of-nowhere Maine," Greta stated with fake enthusiasm before taking a big swig of her drink. "If you're still out here by the time you', then it's either because your life's been decided for you, or you can't afford to leave."
"Oh, come on, Greta," James said with a disappointed look aimed at his cousin. "It's not that bad."
"Speak for yourself," the blonde turned on him. "It'd be easier for you to leave this place with your sports than me with general education." She turned to Vera. "Obviously there's no career in sports around here unless you want to be a gym teacher, so James can get himself drafted onto some professional baseball team in the big city. I'm more likely to be stuck here in Derry since my mom's a teacher and they're always in need of those around here." She shook her head and sighed to herself. "Should have gone away with Dad after the divorce."
"Yeah, yeah, you know you'd be bored without me," James pointed to her with a fry before tossing it in his mouth.
Greta smirked and rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure, because there's obviously no one else in the world outside of this town."
Vera smiled at the cousins' playful banter. "It's good that you guys know what you want to do, though," she told both of them in earnest. "I started out studying history but changed my focus to literature, which threw off my studies a bit. For a short time I was afraid I was going to have to double down on classes so I could catch up and graduate within four or five years."
"That's what happened to one of my friends," James nodded. "Where he began was so different from where he ended up wanting to be that he basically had to start over again in his third year. Said it was kind of embarrassing being in the intro class and feeling like he was so much older than everyone else," his tone conveyed sympathy.
"I was lucky," Vera agreed, "that history and literature have a number of similarities in terms of study and practice. If I had to start over from scratch that late into university I think I'd feel more overwhelmed than anything." Fiddling with her straw wrapper on the table, Vera began to roll up the thin piece of paper into a small, tightly-wound tube. "I have a hard time –" Her words were cut short as there came a loud noise from behind them.
The three turned their attentions towards the source of the sound as a pale, distraught-looking woman with a black bob stood in the doorway, her expression appearing somewhat distant as her eyes briefly scanned the interior of the diner before she made her way towards the back counter.
Vera watched the woman with her companions, taking note of how she seemed on edge despite the confidence in her step, as signaled by the way she kept clenching and unclenching her fists in her skirt, kneading the dark fabric between her fingers as though to rid her hands of some unseen contaminant.
When he waitress from earlier appeared from the kitchen, the woman approached the counter, her hands finding purchase on its lip like a life raft in the sea. Frantic but incoherent words were spoken between the two women and Vera could see the waitress's brow furrow in concern after a few moments. She shook her head a couple times and turned to leave when the dark-haired woman reached out and grabbed her wrist tightly, halting the brunette's movements.
"Please," a hushed, broken voice crept passed the woman's lips, loud enough for all to hear, and Vera noticed the pained look on her face as she suddenly surveyed the space around her, as if afraid her voice had drawn attention. It was an unnecessary reaction, as her appearance had already drawn all eyes to her from the moment she stepped inside.
The waitress made a gentle effort to place a hand softly over the one that encircled her wrist like a vice, and spoke a few words that made the woman's tense figure ease somewhat and her hand drop from the blonde's. When she moved away, Vera was able to make out a strange mixture of annoyance and deep thought on the waitress' face. She disappeared into the kitchen for a minute or two, leaving the nervous woman to wring her hands together, glancing about with a distant look on her face once more – though now with a crinkle of worry on her brow.
A minute later the waitress came back out again and began making her rounds at each table of customers, finally arriving at that occupied by Vera and her new friends. All three gave the young woman a quizzical look as she approached, expecting an explanation for what was going on.
"Hey, sorry to bother you guys," the waitress seemed somewhat hesitant, "have any of you seen Thomas Brown in the past day or two?"
"We know him, but haven't seen him," Greta replied.
"Who's Thomas Brown?" Vera looked between the cousins for an answer.
"Greta used to babysit him when he was smaller – he was a good kid," James supplied her with.
"Medium height, sandy brown hair, about twelve, often wears a sports jersey," the waitress listed off, "he goes to school with my son."
Vera shook her head, indicating she had seen no one that fit the description.
"Did something happen to him?" Greta asked the waitress as the woman turned to go back towards what Vera now knew to be the boy's mother.
"Don't know," the waitress spoke honestly with a shrug. "Susan said he didn't come home last night. Supposedly he was out playing football with some of his friends before it got dark and they all went home. No one's seen him since then, apparently."
Vera spared a glance behind the waitress towards the worried mother whose eyes were now focused on the foursome. "We'll tell you or get a message through to her if we see him," she offered, earning nods from her companions across the table.
"Thanks," the waitress replied – though her words sounded half-hearted – and she spun on her heels to return to the woman at the counter.
"You don't think he's just playing around, do you?" James asked no one in particular, bringing Vera's attention back to the table. "I mean, he's run away in the past, hasn't he?" The second question was directed towards Greta.
Greta shook her head. "He did a couple times when he was younger, but that was just when he was mad. He did it one time when I was babysitting because I wouldn't let him have any dessert since he didn't finish his dinner."
"So you think something might have happened to him?" James asked, looking more concerned as he continued to tap a french-fry on his plate – the same he had been unconsciously tapping for the past several minutes since Thomas' mother came into the diner. Greta's brows were drawn together as she seemed to be deeply concentrating on the food before her, biting her lower lip.
"Are you sure he isn't just, you know, hiding out somewhere? That he didn't just stay near the park or someplace because he was upset about something?" Vera questioned her.
Greta's eyes met hers and she shook her head firmly. "He couldn't. Even if he wanted to and did, there's no way he could do so unseen or without anyone finding out by the morning."
"Why is that?" Vera reflected the same serious expression as James when Greta answered her.
"Because Thomas is afraid of the dark."
