Behind the Curtain Read online

  Jordyn was indignant. “I am not a princess! Take that back, Rowdy! I’m sitting out here on wet grass in the cold, in case you haven’t noticed!”

  There was nothing Rowdy could say without touching on that awkward topic of how wealthy she was. She was rich and beautiful with a picture-perfect family and a white picket fence. To him, that made her a princess.

  “Sorry…I didn’t mean to…” he began. The curtain in the window was moved to the side. A hand pushed the window open. Rowdy froze.

  “I saw it too,” Jordyn said in a barely audible whisper.

  Rowdy handed the binoculars over, and she raised them to her wide-open eyes. His stomach was hurting from the patch of snow he was lying on. He heard wind rustling the trees behind them.

  They sat frozen like that for what felt like forever.

  Finally, Jordyn passed the binoculars back and checked her phone.

  “Eleven fifty-eight,” she said. The two remained quiet and fixated on the window. Rowdy found himself counting out the seconds to midnight.

  Suddenly there was a big cracking sound in the trees behind them, and a black bird whipped low between them, carrying something shiny in its beak.

  Jordyn screamed. Loudly.

  The bird flew low across the field and darted into the open window.

  “Shoot!” Rowdy said, jumping to his feet. He felt around in the grass, jamming everything he could find into Jordyn’s pack. “She had to have heard that!” he whispered anxiously.

  “Sorry!” Jordyn whined. The two fled on foot across the slippery field and down a foot trail to where their bikes were leaning against a tree in the darkness.

  They stopped there, breathing hard, their hearts beating violently.

  “Sorry,” Jordyn said again. “That scared the crap out of me!”

  Rowdy nodded in the dark. “Scared me too.”

  They walked back to their sleeping neighborhood together, pushing their bikes.

  “What if she just has a pet bird?” Jordyn reasoned. “I mean, it would be odd, but it wouldn’t make her a witch.”

  They were following a preplanned route to Jordyn’s house that allowed them to keep in the shadows for the most part. Tonight it was difficult. The big full moon was hanging low, fat, and bright.

  Rowdy was quiet and thoughtful. He was trying to find reasonable explanations for his granny’s strange ways.

  Jordyn went to the backside of her house and pried her bedroom window open. Rowdy reached beside her to help, inhaling more beachy hair scent.

  He boosted her in, feeling the cold, gritty sole of her shoe in his hands. She reached out, and he gave her the pack.

  He snuck back home as she slowly and quietly closed the window.

  Rowdy’s father was snoring loudly from his awkward, sprawled-out position on the love seat.

  The television was on, noisily rotating through midnight infomercials. An almost empty bottle of whiskey was on the floor beside his father’s dangling hand.

  Rowdy sighed and rolled his eyes. He removed his shoes and turned off the television. It was suddenly very quiet, and his dad gave an extra snort in his snore.

  When Rowdy bent down to pick up the whiskey bottle and put its cap on, his dad reached out and touched his arm in the darkness. “Son? That you?”

  “Mmm hmm,” he answered, sealing the bottle and reaching behind himself to pull a blanket from the chair, the only other piece of furniture in the tiny living room of their duplex.

  “Where have you been?” his father whispered drowsily.

  “Oh, nowhere special,” Rowdy replied in a whisper, draping the blanket over his dad. “Just to a creepy dark field with a girl to watch a witch and her evil crow cast spells.”

  Rowdy’s dad patted his arm. “That’s good, son,” he said, then resumed his snoring almost instantly.

  Rowdy went down the hall to his bedroom and flopped onto his bed. He buried his face into the cold pillow. He knew he should go to sleep, but his mind was swimming with questions: How was Granny going to help him save his dad? What would happen when he went to retrieve his pack the next day? What had happened in the upstairs window of Granny’s that night?

  He fell into a restless sleep filled with visions of cauldrons, black crows, and long brown hair that smelled of coconuts.

  Chapter 2

  The Room Upstairs

  At the end of the next school day, Rowdy found himself surrounded by the bigger boys in his grade as he tried to cross the front field to the bus.

  “Hey, loser, your witch up to her weird moon tricks again last night?” It was Hugo, the most dangerous one of the lot.

  Rowdy shrugged and kept walking, gaze on the pavement before him. He was smaller than Hugo, he didn’t have friends like Hugo, and he was feeling weak from a day without enough food to eat.

  “Hey!” Hugo punched him hard in the back and spit a huge green wad onto the pavement as he walked too close to Rowdy. “I seen your bike at her place lately. She’s a witch, ain’t she?”

  Rowdy was getting closer to the bus and the crowd moving into it. He shrugged again and walked faster toward safety. But Hugo stepped in front of him with his feet spread wide. He grabbed Rowdy by the shirt and stuck his fat red face into Rowdy’s.

  “Look at me,” Hugo said. Rowdy looked into the piggy little eyes.

  “Good boy. Now answer the question. Your grandma a witch?”

  The crowd of Hugo’s yes-men stood quietly with their hands in their pockets, waiting.

  Rowdy answered honestly, deciding no safe answer existed.

  “I don’t know yet.” There was a brief moment of silence as everyone waited for Hugo’s reaction.

  Hugo scrunched his piggy eyes even scrunchier, then pushed Rowdy hard onto the pavement.

  “You better find out, dork!” Hugo’s mob forced out some false laughter as the group moved on, leaving Rowdy to pick himself up and get to his bus.

  He scrambled into the first empty seat, glancing up briefly to see if Jordyn was there, hoping she hadn’t witnessed his humiliation. He saw her tucked into the back seat with Jessica, waving lip-gloss around. He knew that even if she had seen him pushed to the ground, she would pretend she hadn’t to save him any further embarrassment. She was considerate that way.

  He arrived at his granny’s shaken up, bruised up, and ravenous, no longer caring whether she was a witch or about his backpack of library books. He decided the librarian was a crabby old bag anyway. She didn’t deserve to have him worrying himself over her books. Just that year he had been using a library computer when the old bag waved an apple core in his face.

  “There is no food allowed in my library and certainly not around my computers,” she had hissed at him through clenched teeth.

  The smell of her breath had thrown him off. It smelled like fish and a mint doing a very sorry job.

  “It isn’t m-mine,” he stammered, looking into her eyes that blinked hugely at him from behind thick lenses.

  “Pigeon pellets,” she replied, waving the core in his face. “You throw this in the garbage right now. And not the recycling bin, the garbage!”

  She watched him with her fists on her hips and her old-lady shoe tapping while he took the core across the room to the garbage can.

  She nodded at him righteously afterward. Rowdy had wanted to stuff her mouth with a whopping handful of mints. The memory still pricked him.

  This time when Granny opened the front door a hair before his knuckles made contact, Rowdy pushed right into the kitchen to wash his hands without taking his jacket off. He didn’t want Granny to see what had happened to his elbow when it had hit the pavement.

  Granny closed the door gently. She flipped her braid over her shoulder and shuffled to the kitchen.

  “Chilly, are we?” she said coyly, placing a bowl of lentil soup on the table. She added a salad made of spring shoots to the table and a big slice of hot bread.

  Rowdy remained quie
t, devouring his meal with gusto.

  “This is delicious, Granny,” he said between bites, feeling better than he had for two days.

  Granny bent over him to place a cup of steaming herbal tea before him. The mug had a ridiculously large handle and spiders painted all over it. She looked into his face with her crystal eyes.

  “Rowdy, you look tired. Were you up late last night?” The corner of her mouth twitched into one of her secretive smiles as she collected an empty plate and returned to the kitchen.

  Rowdy furrowed his brow at her, his thick eyebrows knitting together. He deflected her question with one of his own.

  “How did your Spring Preparation go last night, Granny?” he asked in an innocent voice. Then he belched. Not on purpose. He instinctively clapped his hand over his mouth and excused himself. Granny giggled. It was a high-pitched squeak that sounded like a mouse.

  Rowdy smiled big and broad from ear to ear. He leaned back in his chair, completely satisfied, warm, and relaxed. He reached for his tea and carefully took a sip, feeling out the temperature with his lips.

  It tasted awful. Bitter. It went down his throat before he could stop it.

  “Ugh! Granny! What is this?” he almost shouted, grimacing. He heard Granny’s squeaky giggles.

  “It’s dandelion root tea! It aids in the digestive process.” She giggled at him some more, wiping plates dry with her apron. “I just figured,” she continued, “with the way you swallow your food whole like a snake, you might need it!” At that, she burst into squeaks, her tiny eyes all but lost.

  Rowdy had to laugh with her. His granny was a bit of an imp so it seemed. He picked up the rest of the supper plates and carried them to the kitchen. It was warm in Granny’s little house. That—and the hot food in his belly—was making him sweat.

  “You are perspiring, dear. Why don’t you take off that coat and stay awhile?”

  She flashed him a quick, knowing glance, the crystal eyes briefly catching the light.

  He scowled at her and slowly removed his jacket. He didn’t have to look at his elbow to know it was black and swollen.

  “My, my.” Granny clucked under her breath. She stooped and opened a cupboard, then tinkered among glass jars for a minute before emerging with a clear jar of green goop. She held it up to him, removing the lid. A strong odor of seaweed and something Rowdy couldn’t identify surrounded them.

  Rowdy took the glass jar from her and peered into it suspiciously. He looked up to see Granny’s beaming face.

  “You want me to put this goop on my elbow, don’t you?” he said.

  Granny’s crystal eyes sparkled. “It’s not ‘goop,’ dear. It’s a ‘silly herbal concoction.’”

  She giggled at the look of shock on his face and beckoned him to follow her. He did so, carrying the green ointment. They went down a little hallway. He heard water running. She opened the bathroom door and a great, fresh cloud of hot steam burst out.

  “It’s time for you to get cleaned up, Rowdy, and then I will show you how to help your dad get himself back together, as promised. Put that ointment on your elbow when you are finished.”

  Rowdy entered the hot, steamy room as he was told, and the door was shut behind him. Before him was a big, deep tub full of hot, steaming water. Candles lined a long counter along the wall. They were glowing out of glass jars in the shapes of crows and blue-stained snowflakes.

  Rowdy studied them curiously as he removed his dirty, well-worn clothing, realizing it had been several days since he had washed. He had only a shower at his own home. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had immersed himself in deep, hot water.

  As he slipped his body into the tub, the day’s troubles dissipated, and soon he was almost dozing with bliss.

  His eyes were closed and his mind peacefully unencumbered. The light of the candles flickered in and out, orange and purple behind his lids.

  He felt his bones fill up with the deep, penetrating heat; even his swollen elbow was feeling better.

  His mind was blissfully empty when a vision of the black crow that had frightened him the night before whipped past his eyes with a shiny, bright marble in its beak. He followed the bird’s flight to the upstairs window as he had done before, but this time the bird didn’t disappear. Instead, it turned around and looked at him. Its face was that of a pretty middle-aged woman with full lips and black marble eyes.

  His eyes popped open, and he sat up with a start, sending a ripple along the surface of the water. He watched as the little waves sparkled in the candlelight, coaxing him to touch them with his finger. He ran his fingers hypnotically through the sparkling water, the picture of the crow lady’s face fixed in his mind.

  Granny brought him to his senses by banging on the door and telling him he would turn into a raisin if he didn’t get out. Rowdy smiled. Then he frowned when he realized he would have to put his scrubby clothes back on.

  To his wonderment, he discovered a fresh pair of cargo-type pants and a new shirt in the place of his dirty clothes. The pants were a camouflage-green color and covered with pockets. They were made of tough material and fit him perfectly.

  The shirt was black with long sleeves and fit too loosely on his scrawny upper body. He paused for a moment, mid-dress, to run his fingertips across his exposed rib cage. It made him feel sad to see his body looking so weak. He remembered then about Hugo and felt a surge of humiliation all over again.

  Rowdy sighed, towel-dried his thick hair, put the magical goop on his swollen elbow, and pulled the new shirt down over his head.

  All things considered, he should have been exhausted. Except he wasn’t. He was full of emotion and excitement. He knew something was about to happen. He felt recharged, wired up almost.

  Granny had a key ring in her hand. It had too many keys on it to count. Rowdy wondered what they could possibly be for. Deftly, Granny selected one and slipped it into the keyhole of the door that led to the upstairs.

  The hallway they stood in was dark. Rowdy held a glass jar with a candle burning in it. His heart pounded with excitement, so hard that he worried he would drop the candle.

  “Rowdy, just remember to stay quiet at first,” Granny instructed, turning the key and pushing the door open.

  They were met with more darkness and a flight of stairs. A glow of light was at the top. Rowdy followed his tiny granny’s slow climb up the stairs, the faint scent of wildflowers reaching his nose.

  “Rose! Don’t be alarmed. I brought the boy!” Granny called up ahead of them. A flutter of wings could be heard in response.

  At the top of the stairs, Rowdy stopped and looked around. He saw a large room with many brown boxes stacked neatly along the walls. It looked as though it could have been two rooms at one time, but the dividing walls had been removed. He wondered if his dad’s bedroom had been here and tried to picture his dad as a boy.

  At one end there was a high window boarded up with plywood. At the other end there was the large window covered with the heavy curtain. Beneath that stretched a long wooden table with glass candles burning in a row along its top.

  Standing in the middle of the table was a marble-eyed crow staring right at him. The black feathers shone glossy in the glowing flames. Rowdy felt its gaze pierce hard into him, and he had to catch his breath.

  Rowdy cast his gaze down meekly, his mind already scrambling to connect the crow with the beautiful crow lady, but it didn’t make sense. When he looked up again, it was into the crystal eyes of his granny.

  “Rowdy, I want you to look around the room and tell me what you see,” she instructed. The crow watched intently without blinking, still as stone.

  He looked around the room. The only oddities in it were his peculiar granny and her weird pet. He shrugged at her and shook his head to tell her he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  Granny reached her crooked fingers out to him, and he took her little hand. She brought him to the window with the heavy curtain drawn across
it. Rowdy heard the crow’s feet scrape the top of the table as it turned to watch Granny pull the curtain back.

  He looked out, expecting to find something special. He was disappointed to see a view of the back field in the falling dusk, the clump of trees, and the pathway he and Jordyn had fled down the night before. Before he could squint his eyes to look more closely for anything unusual, the curtain was pulled shut again.

  “It is dangerous to leave it open, especially when it is dark,” Granny explained in a hushed voice, looking sideways at the crow, who nodded its shiny black head in agreement and blinked its marble eyes at her.

  Rowdy looked at the crow suspiciously, perplexed about his vision of the crow with the lady’s face.

  “You need to stand in the middle of the room,” Granny told him. “If you can’t see it, then perhaps you will feel it.” Rowdy did as he was told, having no idea what “it” was, with some mixture of curiosity and doubt, excitement and dread.

  He stood with his arms at his sides and his eyes closed.

  “Breathe, dear,” he heard Granny say. “In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

  Rowdy found himself concentrating on his balance and his breathing. He hoped he wouldn’t fall over. Then he hoped he wouldn’t start laughing. At last, he found his rhythm. In through the nose and out through the mouth. Over and over until he heard his granny’s voice calling his name softly.

  He opened his eyes to see his own arm outstretched and pointing to a brown box among the many brown boxes. Excitement surged through him as he dropped to one knee and pulled the box out. He turned around and placed it onto the floor in front of the crow, Granny, and the flickering lights.

  He began to open the lid but paused to look at Granny for permission. She nodded at him, her little eyes sparkling.

  In the box, he found a leather belt, soft and worn and strong. A leather sheath was attached. He stared at it for several minutes, feeling the soft leather with his fingers. His fingertips tingled. He brought the leather to his nose and inhaled. It smelled like danger, sweat, and adventure. He felt a smile spreading across his face. The belt seemed familiar. He stood up and put it on, grinning madly at his granny.