Chapter 3 #2
Within a few minutes, I spot Gwen and the two little boys she nannies, John and Michael, along with a few other local kids.
“Hey, guys,” I say, giving Gwen a side hug. “How’s it going?”
The older boy, who looks like he’s eight or nine, is sitting on the side of the fountain, his big round glasses taking over his face.
He looks suspicious of getting wet, and I don’t blame him.
It’s pretty cold for splashing in the fountain.
Meanwhile his little brother, who’s probably four or five, is running in the water in his swim trunks, getting his teddy bear completely soaked.
“You know, the usual,” she says with a grin. “John doesn’t want to get wet. Michael is making enough mess for the two of them. But they’re both happy.” She calls to the boys. “John, Michael, this is my cousin Ryder.”
John, the older brother, holds out a hand to shake mine, and I put my hand in his, giving it a firm shake. Michael, on the other hand, launches himself at me and gives me a giant wet hug.
“What’s going on?” I ask the boys. “Any fun games?”
“We were playing tag,” Michael says, giving John a side-eye, “but John doesn’t want to get in the fountain.”
“I’ll play tag with you,” I offer.
“Really?” Michael beams up at me. “You’ll get in the fountain?”
“Sure, why not?” I take off my shoes and roll up my pants.
Gwen laughs beside me. “I don’t even get in the fountain.”
“That’s because you need a little more fun in your life,” I reply. I stick a foot in the water, which is way colder than I expected, but I’ve been in worse conditions than this. No complaining allowed.
Michael hops in the water with me, and we chase each other around the fountain for a bit, him squealing in delight and me getting completely soaked. Just as I suspected, it’s freezing. But it’s worth it.
“All right, Michael, I need a break,” I finally say. He groans but follows me out of the fountain.
“Michael, come with us!” calls one of the kids. “There’s a troll over here!”
“Oh, no!” Michael follows the kid, and I follow behind.
We travel around the street, weaving between a few buildings.
If this were any town other than Brookhaven, I’d be more concerned about kids wandering unsupervised.
But this has to be the safest town that’s ever existed, and the kids can roam around without a care. Besides, I’m following behind.
We finally reach a crowd of kids around the tower that emerges from the center of a house.
There are a few homes around, and a creek that runs behind the homes, but this house is the only one with a gigantic tower.
Agatha Stone’s house. I never went in the tower myself, even though it belongs to Peter’s aunt.
We always joked about what she kept up there, but no one was brave enough to make the climb up the stone stairs.
“What’s going on?” I ask them.
One of the kids points up to the tower. “There’s music coming from there.”
I pause and listen. Loud piano music echoes down from the top of the tower. “You’ve never heard that before?” I ask the kids.
They all shake their heads in unison. “I think there’s a troll up there,” an older girl says with a glint in her eyes.
“Ryder, go slay it!” Michael says.
I laugh. “I’m sure it’s just…a person.” I peer up at the tower again.
“You have to save us, Ryder!” an older boy says.
I know it’s become a game for them now. And I love games. And a challenge.
But I’ve been off work for over a year now, and I’m a little rusty.
I slide my hand into my pocket, feeling the familiar keychain that’s become my anchor—a little green stone chameleon I dubbed Galileo.
His arms and legs press into my palm, grounding me from anxious thoughts.
I size up the tower, noting that it’s made from pretty large stones that have decent grooves between them.
I’ve scaled worse than that. But I haven’t done a stunt like this in over a year.
At least it’s not a driving stunt.
It’s only four stories, with a vine climbing up the side. Worst-case scenario, if I lost my grip, I could hold on to the vine and catch myself before falling. Maybe this would be a good test of my coping strategies.
I take a few determined steps in the direction of the tower, but Gwen’s hand on my arm holds me back. “Ryder! What are you doing?”
I look back at her with a wink. “I’m about to save the kids from a troll.”
“Are you serious? You’re going to climb that tower?”
I point at myself with my eyebrows raised. “Professional stuntman. I got this.” Fake it till you make it, right? If only she could see how fast my heart is racing. But I shoot her a smirk. “Trust me, I’ve done worse. Besides, Agatha loves me.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t fight any further. I think she knows it’s pointless.
I walk to the base of the tower, pausing for a moment to look up, inhale and exhale, and assess the climb.
It’s really not that bad. I remind myself that I’ve climbed higher than this, that my body knows what to do, that I’m strong and capable.
The music keeps playing, its listener unaware of the person who’s about to come up to see them.
With a grin, I put my hands in the grooves, take a step up with one leg, and the kids all cheer behind me.
One step, one pull, one stone at a time, I make my way up the tower. My hand slips once, and I grab the vine next to me, dangling there for a moment. My stomach sinks, but when I get out of my head, I hear the kids’ cheers, and I find my footing once again.
Up, up, up. I keep climbing until I finally reach the balcony. I hoist my torso onto the balcony and swing my legs over. Looking back at the kids, I pump my fist in the air, and they all clap and cheer.
Success. I got in a decent workout, faced my fears, and entertained some kids.
But now I need to find out what—or who—is up here making that noise.
The double doors leading to the balcony are wide open, so I follow my ears into the tower room and peer around the corner.
And what I see is even weirder than I expected.
A tiny young woman, her blonde hair in a long braid—and I mean LONG—is bent over a gigantic piece of white paper on the floor with piano keys drawn on it. She bangs on the keys, unaware of my presence, the music blaring through the room.
“Well, hello there,” I shout over the music.
She freezes, looks over at me with bright blue eyes, and screams.
Her hands fly over her mouth, and then she says, “Ryder?”