Well, it's not exactly a double feature . . . the next two chapters just weren't working on their own so I just combined the best of both of them in one. Hopefully, the result is enjoyable.
Chapter 15
Birnam Wood
Portland, Maine
April, 2007
Catherine Adams slung her schoolbag over her shoulder as she hurried out the door. Her feet fluttered down the sidewalk away from her home. It had rained the night before, and she did a good job of avoiding the small sidewalk puddles as she made her way the few blocks to school. Her long blonde hair fell loose over her shoulders, and it swayed with the gentle motion of her steps. She turned a final corner and found herself at the corner of St. Beatrice High School. She made quick work of the stairs leading up to the main doors, and even quicker work of the walk to her locker, number 342.
“Hey,” a voice called from below her.
“Avery! Hey!”
“How’s it going,” he asked shutting his bottom locker and standing up beside her.
“Pretty good, you?”
“Oh, you know, can’t complain.” He leaned into her, “not with you around, I can’t.”
Catherine beamed. “What was I thinking ever dating you? You’re no good for me.” She placed a soft hand on the centre of his chest and looked up into his Kelly eyes.
He smiled a wide, toothy smile. “Don’t hate me because I’m protestant.”
Catherine threw a hand to her forehead in mock exasperation. “What will my mother say?!”
The bell interrupted them. They parted with the briefest of kisses and Catherine hurried down the hall toward her drama class.
A week and a half had passed since their first date, and Cameron had taken Waylon out another four times. The pair decided to spend the lazy Friday afternoon at the beach, sunning themselves on the sand where they had first met.
“Did you have any pets growing up,” Waylon asked.
“Only once,” Cameron said beside him. “No, never. You had some, I take it?”
“Yeah, a dog. His name is Bretton. Get it? Bretton Wood? Like the . . .”
“Yes, I understand your humour.”
Cameron still had not lost his calm, and even tone, though Waylon had learned to discern the most subtle of inflections in his voice that denoted moments of humour or sincerity. Waylon reached into his bag and pulled out his phone. The time was only 2:35pm. He knew skipping his last class was wrong, but he couldn’t resist spending a long afternoon on the shore.
Waylon sat up on his elbows and looked over at Cameron’s lithe frame in the sand. “At the rate you’re burning you might just be a vampire.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of sun screen. “Put this on - don’t want to get cancer.”
Cameron didn’t reach out to take the bottle. “I will not get cancer he said.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone says before they get cancer. In fact, I think just saying you won't get it attracts it to you.”
Cameron didn’t take his gaze off the gentle lulling of the waves. “I assure you, cancer will never plague me.”
Cameron finally looked down when he felt Waylon’s hand on his. “Cam. Please? Just put it on.”
“Of course.”
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“Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble!” Catherine waited in the wings for her cue. “ . . . cool with a baboon’s blood then the charm is firm and good.” She looked down at the copy of the script she held in her hands. Her lines were short, but she knew that her role was the turning point in the drama.
Just as she was taking her first step onto the stage a sharp voiced yelled from the audience “cut! Dan, you’re line is ‘and wears upon his baby-brow the round and top of sovereignty. That ‘and’ is important - if it wasn’t he wouldn’t have put it in there! Everyone take five!”
Catherine retreated back into the dark cavern of the stage wings. Dan Wilson walked up behind her, “Hey Cat, how’s it going?”
“Oh, hey Dan. Not much. What's up with you?”
“I’m having a party tonight at my house - my parents are out of town and my brother’s girlfriend said she’d help me get some Boone’s Farm. You should come.” Dan rested his elbow on the wall and leaned in close. “Bring some of your girl friends, it’ll be fun . . . but, uh, why don’t you leave Avery at home.”
“But, uh, why don’t you get the fuck out of my friend’s face, Dan Wilson! She done got a man and that means that she is already out of yo league!” A mass of long black hair suddenly wedged itself in the small space between Catherine and Dan. Spray tan hands fluttered in the air, and Dan, knowing when to cut his losses, simply turned and walked away.
“Honey you know you owe me for that. Men are predators; us women got to stick together!” Angie Giadino was her own gift to St. Beatrice High School; if you didn’t believe her just ask her. Every day in the year and a half since she had moved to Portland from New Jersey, she arrived at school dressed as though she had blindly stumbled through a fashion magazine’s closet in the 1980’s. By sheer luck, she had been seated next to Catherine for home room their first year, and she had not left Catherine’s side since. Out of all the people that Catherine would call her friend, none had the voice and the personality to match that of Angie.
“Oh my gahd, this play is so boring. All I get to do is stir the cauldron and talk about monkey blood,” Angie complained through smacks of her chewing gum.
“At least you're not playing a little boy,” Catherine said.
“But for real,” Angie said changing the subject, “are you going to go to Dan’s party? ‘Cause I mean, if you wanted to go, you know I would go with you?”
Catherine squinted her eyes at her friend. “Is that code for ‘I want to go Dan’s party, so come with me and bring Avery in case the creepy guys hit on me?”
“Yeah, exactly, so what should I wear?”
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“Can I ask you a question,” Waylon said as he and Cameron walked back towards Campus.
“Of course.”
“Well, . . . I mean . . . we’ve been hanging out a lot and . . . I mean, I’m not trying to put a label on anything or anything . . . but . . . like . . . are we? Like . . . do I need to change my relationship status on facebook?” Waylon hadn’t meant the words to be vomited out in that fashion and so he turned a slight shade pale as he waited for Cameron to respond.
“You are asking if we are officially dating.”
“ . . . yes . . . ?”
“Well,” Cameron said, stopping to look Waylon in the eye. “From my understanding, a relationship requires the consent of all involved individuals, and therefore, I would have to ask you, Waylon, if you would consent to being in a relationship with me.”
“Well, if you did ever ask me,” Waylon said trying as best he could to sound nonchalant, “I would probably say yes. But only if you asked me outright.”
“Would you like to enter into a relationship with me, Waylon?”
Waylon slid his hand into Cameron’s and said softly: “Yes.”
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The final bell had rung for the day and the hallway was overflowing with students heading towards their homes. “Okay, so, girl, how ‘bout, I like come over to your house and we can get ready for the party.” Angie gave Catherine a quick look over and added, “don’t worry I’ll bring you something cute to wear too.”
“Uh,” Catherine said startled. “My house?”
“Yeah, you know, that place that you neva invite me to?”
“Why don’t I just come over to your place? That way you won't have to lug all of your stuff to my house.”
Angie crossed her arms and cocker her head. “How ‘bout no.” Seeing the look on Catherine’s face she said, “you done seen my room - you know I don’t care if it's messy. I’ll be there at eight,” and headed off down the hall.
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Walking hand in hand, Cameron and Waylon made it to the front door of the Keep in minutes, and prepared to say goodbye. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to dinner with us? I know James wouldn’t mind.”
“No, I am afraid I already promised Guy that I would dine with him tonight.”
Waylon pouted his lips and asked him what his plans were after dinner.
“My plans are,” Cameron said, “to read, but your plans are to study for your Russian test tomorrow.”
“And why can’t my plans involve seeing you and then studying?” Waylon leaned into Cameron and did his best to produce a look that was irresistible.
“Because I do not date people that make B’s. Your academic success if crucial to my attraction to you.”
Waylon studied his face. “You raised your eyebrows. That means that was a joke.”
“Perchance.”
Waylon leaned in and let his lips fall onto Cameron’s. Waylon felt a gentle pull on his upper lip before pulling away. “I’ll see you tomorrow at least?”
“Perchance.”
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The doorbell rang loudly throughout the house. Locke opened the door to find Angie standing there with a makeup bag in one hand and several dresses in the other. “Oh my gahd, girl your place is nice! I knew you had money, but damn. Why we don’t party over here?”
“My parents wouldn’t like that,” Catherine offered.
“Where they at today?”
“Gone . . . dad had a business trip, mom went with him.”
They spent more time than Catherine thought necessary getting ready. Angie had forced her into a belted dress that wrapped itself around her waist in a way that made Catherine sure she would have bruises in the morning. Her makeup, another of Angie’s projects, resembled something from Picasso. Her eyes were marred with bright emerald green eye shadow and where her normally soft and pink lips used to be, a fire engine red line was drawn.
“Damn girl, you look good,” Angie had said when looking at her in the mirror.
“Well, I do look . . . interesting,” Catherine said reluctantly.
“Listen,” Catherine said, “let me go do one quick thing and then I’ll be ready to go.”
“Sure girl,” Angie said as she applied fake eyelashes to herself.
Catherine snuck down the hall to her parent’s room and silently opened the door. “Mom” she whispered. “Mom?” She walked over to the bed where her mother lay and tried to shake her awake, but it was no use. She looked down at her mother’s hands and saw and empty glass in one and the orange bottle of prescription pills in another. Catherine sighed to herself and began looking for a pen. She wrote a quick note telling of where she would be that night, and searched for a place to put it. She finally stuck it to the side of a large vodka bottle sitting on the bedside table in hope that, at some point, her mother would be thirsty and see it. Finally, she crept back out of the room and back to Angie.
“Alright,” Catherine said trying to look excited, “let’s do this!”
