“I started to see impossible things, little people in the trees and in the grass running around right under people’s noses. There was one guy who hung out with a pack of squirrels, and people must have thought he was a squirrel ’cause they never batted an eye. I should have been scared but I wasn’t. I loved it.”
Harold and Dmitri listened with rapt attention to Chester’s story, both of them wishing they could see these people he was talking about. Something about what he was saying seemed to resonate with them. They never even contemplated disbelieving him because deep down what he was saying rang true.
“Do you see any of these people right now?” Delia said suddenly.
Chester frowned and looked around. He looked out the window of the cafe. “There. The guy on the corner with the hat.”
They all craned their necks and looked out to see a man in an overcoat and a wide-brimmed felt hat standing at the crosswalk waiting for the light. He didn’t seem in any way unusual. He held a newspaper under his arm and was talking animatedly into a cellphone.
“He doesn’t seem weird to me,” Delia scoffed.
“Okay,” Chester said. “How cold is it today?”
“What does it matter?” Delia asked.
“It’s minus ten Celsius,” Harold offered.
“Minus eighteen with the wind chill,” Chester confirmed. “Look at his hands.”
The man wasn’t wearing gloves. His hands were bare. “And that jacket?” They saw now that the guy was wearing a thin spring jacket that couldn’t possibly have kept him warm in the subarctic chill.
“They put up some kind of illusion so they look like us. At least that’s my theory. If you could really see him, you’d know that the cellphone he’s using is a piece of wood and his hair is blue and shines like one of those fibre optic lamps.”
The light changed and the man set off across the street.
“You’re asking us to believe that you see things we can’t,” Delia said.
“I’m not asking you to believe anything.” Chester raised his coffee and slurped it noisily while leaning back in his chair. “You came to me, remember. Believe me or don’t. Couldn’t care less.”
Delia chewed her lip. “Tell me about Brendan.”
“He’s one of those people. So is your other friend. The girl with the stick.”
“Kim?” Dmitri and Harold gasped at the same time.
“Uh-huh.” Chester nodded. “And that new teacher.”
“Greenleaf!” Harold and Dmitri said together.
“Wow,” Chester laughed. “You guys are good at that. You should start an act.”
Delia smacked the table, setting the cups clattering in their saucers. “Listen! So Brendan is one of these… people? Things? The bigger question we need answered is what are they and what do they want?”
“Why do you want to know?” Chester asked, leaning back and cracking his giant knuckles. “They aren’t doing you any harm.”
“I live with one of them in my house,” Delia spat. “It’s disgusting.”
“You know two of them, actually. That French chick who just showed up? The hot one? She’s one of them, too.”
“No way!” Harold exclaimed. “That’s cool.”
“No, it isn’t. It isn’t cool!” Delia shouted angrily. Other patrons of the cafe jerked their heads around to stare at her outburst. She sneered at them and turned back to her companions. “We have to find out what he’s doing.”
“I know what he’s doing,” Chester said mildly. At their shocked expressions, he shrugged. “This dude showed up at school today with two other scary ones and sort of froze everybody, put them to sleep on their feet. He was different from any of the others I’d seen. He was, I don’t know, really powerful, a total badass. All the other ones I see are sort of quiet, harmless, you know? Not this guy. He scared the crap outta me. And the other two with him, a guy and girl, had that psycho vibe, too. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen one of them interfere with people in any way. I pretended to be dazed like everybody else. I heard them talking about some gathering that starts tonight on Ward’s Island, only they called it something weird: ‘The Island of the Ward.’ Kim and Greenleaf were seriously mad at this dude they called Puck.”
“Puck! As in hockey puck?” Harold asked, confused. “What kind of name is that?”
“I only know of one Puck and he’s in A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Delia said thoughtfully.
“A midsummer’s what?” Harold asked.
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Delia said disdainfully. “Shakespeare, dumbwad. And Puck is a character in the play. He’s a fairy who causes all kinds of trouble for some people who go into the woods.”
“Sounds dumb,” Harold grumbled.
“Well, it isn’t!” Delia spat.
Dmitri cleared his throat. “Perhaps this Puck is in some way related to the character in the play by Shakespeare. Maybe… ” He paused as if his theory were taking shape in his mind. “Maybe the character was based on one of these people that Chester can see?”^ 54
“There’s only one way to find out,” Delia announced. She looked into each of their faces in turn. “We’re going to this gathering tonight! And Chester is going to take us.”
^ 54 Indeed, Puck in Shakespeare’s play is based on Pukh, Lord of Tir na nOg. Pukh actually commissioned the play from the Bard of Avon. In the end, Pukh defaulted on payment because he didn’t like the way he was portrayed. Shakespeare went on to mount the play in London with great success.
THE GATHERING
“You guys are going to be all right?” Brendan’s mother asked for the tenth time as she allowed her husband to help her on with her coat. The Clair parents were dressed up for a party at the Matador, a seedy bar not far from their home.^ 55 Brendan’s dad was playing in the band so he was dressed in his vintage tuxedo.
“What is it tonight, Dad?” Brendan asked. “Jazz? Rock?”
Edward Clair smiled. “Rockabilly! The Matador will be shakin’! It’s the last night before they close it down. They’ve actually gotten a liquor licence for the occasion!”
“What is the world coming to?” Mum said, laughing. “We’ll be home by midnight.”
“Or maybe two,” Dad suggested hopefully.
“Midnight. And there’s food in the fridge. Just nuke it in the microwave. I’ll be on my cell so if there are any problems… ” Mum instructed.
“There will be no problems.” Brendan’s dad rolled his eyes. “We have to go!” It was still early, only five o’clock, but they were going to have dinner before the sound check. Despite the early hour, darkness was falling fast. This was, after all, the shortest day of the year: the winter solstice, the day of the Clan Gathering and Brendan’s Proving Ceremony.
He watched his parents prepare, happy and carefree. He wished he could go with them and forget about what was coming that night. Why did life have to be so complicated? Delia interrupted his train of thought before he could spiral into self-pity.
“Mum, I’ll be staying at Katie’s tonight, remember?” Delia stood by the door with her arms crossed. “I told you this afternoon.”
“Oh yeah.” Mum nodded. “Fine. Just be sure you leave her number on the fridge.”
“Okay,” Delia agreed, heading away up the hall for the stairs. She’d been weirder than usual during dinner. She seemed reluctant to even look at Brendan. She kept her head down and ate her food and left the table as soon as she was done. Brendan wanted to ask her what her problem was and confront her about the webcam but decided he could do without a fight. He wanted to be calm and collected when he went to the Gathering and Delia had a way of setting him on edge.
“Goodbye, Mum. Bye, Dad. Have fun.”
“Bye, son.” Brendan’s mother kissed him on the cheek. His father opened the door and there, on the porch, finger poised to press the doorbell, was Charlie. She was ridiculously underdressed for the cold weather.
“Charlie!” Dad smiled. “Nice to see you! Don’t you have a coat?”