I wanted to write a story that drew on some of the folklore from the Deep South. We have a wide range of stories that revolve around Native Americans. One particular story served as the inspiration for this. I hope you enjoy!
Photo by Courtney Cook on Unsplash
“You have to come to homecoming, Charlie! Only nerds and weirdos skip,” my older sister Taylor told me. She was 17 and one of the pretty, popular girls like in the movies.
“I thought you said I was a nerd and weirdo,” I shot back. I was average height and slender. My mom said I was handsome, which doesn’t count, and Taylor said girls thought I was cute and had pretty eyes. They’re bright green, but often pointed at the ground or the pages of a book
“I’m trying to help youuuuu,” she exclaimed, exasperated.
In reality, I liked football, and enjoyed going to games. What I didn’t like was this expectation to do what everyone else was, in order to fit in. I hated the highschool movies.
“Come on, Charlie. It’ll be fun! Plus mom said I can’t go unless you go.”
“What? Why?”
“They’re going on a date, and apparently they don’t think 13 is old enough to stay home alone.”
My cheeks flushed as anger flared up inside. What did they think I was going to do, anyways? I didn’t want to, but I knew it would bum Taylor out to stay home so I sighed and said, “Fine, I’ll go. Just don’t forget that you’re my ride and go off and make out with Brian for 3 hours after the game”
She punched me in the arm but smiled. “I really do think you’re gonna have fun. You just gotta let it happen.”
Two hours later I was riding shotgun in her Honda Civic, palms getting progressively more and more sweaty as we neared the high school and found parking.
“What are you so nervous about?” she asked as we walked to the stadium.
“You know how I get in crowds.”
“Charlie, look at me.” She put her hands on my shoulders and took a deep breath. “Nobody is thinking about you. Nobody is making fun of you behind your back. People care way more about themselves and what everyone else is thinking about them.”
“You’re saying I don’t matter?”
She brightened, “Exactly!”
Three hours later, after the game, four of us were in my sister’s Civic. She was driving, her boyfriend Brian was riding shotgun, and Alex and I were in the back seat. Some lame jam band that Brian picked was playing on the stereo. I sat with my hands in my lap and my knees squeezed together, trying to take up as little space as possible.
How in the hell did this happen? I wondered.
I glanced over at Alex and my pulse sped up. She was leaning her head against the window with her eyes closed. I was still amazed that she’d agreed to come to the bonfire party after the game. We’d been standing next to each other and high fived after every touchdown. After we kicked the game winning field goal, I started hugging everyone around me in victorious mania, including her. I thought she’d held on a little long so I, still in aforementioned mania, invited her to the bonfire after the game.
She’d moved to town two years ago and we were in the same grade. We had a lot of the same advanced classes. She was smart, but quiet. It can be hard to break into small-town girl circles, and I wasn’t sure she had any close friends. She was pretty enough that the other girls started rumors early to fend off any potential competition. She usually wore oversized sweatshirts and hoodies - honestly she looked comfortable all the time and I respected that. She had pale skin with light blonde hair and hazel eyes. I’d had a crush on her for a while, and I was surprised to see her at the game.
And now we were on our way to the homecoming bonfire. A tradition at our high school, and probably most high schools. An event for the kids who would never leave their hometown to look back on with nostalgia. My sister went every year, and I’d vowed to never to go. And yet, here I was, in the back seat with a girl I thought was cute, on my way to a trope.
Is she sick? Is she regretting saying yes? Is this technically a date? Does she hate this music as much as I do? These thoughts started swirling through my head like a whole colony of bats pouring out of the mouth of a cave.
She cracked an eye open, saw me looking at her, and smiled. She mouthed a couple of the lyrics to the song and then rolled her eyes and feigned vomiting. I snorted.
“You good bro?” Brian asked.
“Yep!”
I settled into something resembling comfort, let my legs relax a little and exhaled. I apparently had been really tense. Suddenly, I realized my subconsciousness may have been doing me a favor. The second I started to relax, my stomach decided that the Dr. Pepper, nachos, and Peanut M&Ms that I’d inhaled during halftime had become a science experiment in my GI tract.
It’s truly amazing how quickly panic can set in.
As the pressure in my stomach built, I got increasingly more antsy. My hands got clammy and my forehead started to bead with sweat. Oh God, it was hurting.
“You alright back there dude?” Brian asked from the front seat. I glared at him. Now the entire car was focused on me.
“All good! Just got a little overheated. Maybe a hot flash? Maybe I caught some of my mom’s menopause?” I grimaced both at the joke and my stomach.
“I can roll the windows down if you need,” he said.
“No you will not. It’s cold outside,” my sister snapped back. “I’ll just turn the heat down.”
So so so close. The panic returned like a rip current. I was doomed. There was no way I could hold this fart in until we got to the party. That was at least another 20 agonizing minutes. Not only was I going to dutch oven the whole car and ruin any chance I might have with Alex, but I would be entering high school with a reputation. I could handle nice kid who’s nerdy and quiet with the popular older sister. But not this.
Not even my friends would sit with me at lunch. Charlie might have one in the chamber. Cut-the-cheese Charlie. One-cheek-Charlie. Even the teachers would know. Good grades can’t make up for stink. I won’t get letters of recommendation for college. So no degree. No job. For sure no wife. No house. No life. Oh God how can you be so cruel?!
All of a sudden the pain lessened. I was so relieved, it took me several seconds to realize why.
Oh no.
Nobody was reacting so it wasn’t loud. Silent. But was it deadly? I thought I was out of the woods when the smell hit me. It was like a tiny corpse had crawled up into my nose and died all over again. Alex cocked her head and I could see her lip starting to curl.
‘WHO CRAPPED THEIR PANTS?” my sister yelled.
All the color drained from my face. I took a breath and prepared for the social gallows.
“My bad baby. Whew! That was gnarly,” Brian laughed.
“I’m literally gagging right now,” she said as she rolled all the windows down and we gratefully sucked in the fresh, cold air. Brian met my eyes in his visor mirror and winked. I nodded back.
Not all heroes wear capes.
Taylor turned into the field and parked next to the other cars. We climbed out and made our way to the bonfire. As we walked up, Taylor dropped back and put her hand on my arm. “Hey, don’t drink too much tonight. The last thing you want is to get sick on Alex. Also, make a move. She’s into you.” With that, she smiled and walked off with Brian.
I jogged to catch up with Alex. “You been to one of these before?” I asked.
“Not in a field, but my oldest brother used to have parties at our lake house when he was in college, so I’ve seen them. I assume they’re all about the same.”
“Do you want me to grab you a beer?”
“Can’t have it.”
“Oh ok. You don’t drink? Neither do I really. I like to obey the law and stuff.”
She smiled. “I’m gluten-free”
“Huh?”
“I can’t have beer. I’m allergic. I’d have some serious gut issues, and trust me, you do not want to be in the back seat with me on the way home if that’s the case.” She laughed, an honest, sweet sound. “But if they have something other than beer, not liquor though, I’d take one. Just nothing grapefruit flavored. I hate grapefruit.”
“You got it!” and I trotted off to the row of pickup trucks on the other side of the bonfire where the coolers were.
I came back a minute later with four drinks. The cold was already starting to hurt my hands.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?!” she asked, aghast.
“No no no! They just said something about being a bitch and another guy yelled ‘double-fist!’ and then I had four drinks”
“I’m just teasing. ” She smiled as she took two of the drinks.
Man, she had a nice smile.
We each cracked one open, the spares carefully set between our feet. Conversation was easier than I expected and we chatted for a little bit. But we finished both our drinks quickly and before long we were standing there staring at the fire, our empties crushed and tossed into the flames.
She started to fidget and I felt the moment slipping away. So, in a flash of courage – I guess that’s all you need sometimes – I blurted out, “Do you believe in ghosts?”
She looked at me very seriously and said, “Absolutely.”
“You wanna go see a place that’s haunted? It’s just over there past the woodline. Not too far of a walk.”
Her eyes twinkled, “Absolutely.”
“There should be a trail here somewhere. Ah! There it is!” I reflexively reached my hand back to guide her into the woods, and she took it. Her hand was cool and soft and for a second, my entire reality centered on our connected palms. A leafy tree branch to the face snapped me back to reality. We followed the trail into the woods until it opened up into a moonlit clearing.
Alex stepped up next to me and I heard her breath catch.
“They say it’s an ancient Indian burial ground,” I explained, my voice reverent. A breeze shuddered through the trees, and the hairs on the back of my neck and my arms stood up. She stepped in closer to me, pressing her arm up against mine. I glanced down and saw goosebumps covering her skin. I also saw her hoodie wasn’t zipped all the way up. Moonlight does mysterious things to pale skin.
“A young Cherokee maiden killed herself and was buried here after her betrothed died on a hunting trip. Some nights you can see her doing a mourning dance. If a man walks into the clearing with her, she’ll dance with him until sunrise. But when he leaves, he’s an old man. All his youth, gone.”
After a moment, she stepped into the clearing, hand still clasped in mine and smiled, “No ghosts here tonight, though.” She started dancing. Awkwardly. It was so bad I started laughing. She snatched her hand out of mine and poked me in the chest, “Let’s see what you’ve got then!”
I shrugged and started doing the robot. We both burst into laughter as I stepped up to her and took her hands in mine. Make a move, Taylor had said. Well I guess this counts.
“I took some swing lessons last summer. Let’s see what I remember,” I explained as I pulled her in. She smiled as I whispered the count under my breath. One, two, three - a - four, five - a - six. I don’t know how long we danced, but I spun her, dipped her, and marveled at her under the moonlight.
“Six,” I said, finishing the count. We were chest to chest, and a little out of breath. I looked down at her upturned smiling face and thought she had to be the prettiest girl I knew. Her body was pressed tight up against mine. I could feel all her feminine contours, delicate and soft. I prayed she wasn’t as aware of mine.
I was staring at her lips. They were shiny and they had a gravity, whose pull I had no interest in resisting. Did she put on lip gloss? When did she do that? Why did she do that? It was then that I noticed she was staring at my lips, too. Hers curled into a mischievous half smile. I leaned in.
What transpired next was the kind of breathless chaos that only hormonal teenagers can experience. Hands and tongues clumsily explored. Teeth knocked together. Soft moans and gentle laughs.
I could see why people enjoy this so much.
I eventually pulled back and looked at her. Her hoodie was now unzipped all the way, the result of some “exploration.” I looked down at my pants. Hers wasn’t the only zipper undone. The frenzy had passed and we hastily reset our clothing and stood facing each other.
She looked at me, breathless and bit her lip. Feminine wizardry. “We got a little carried away there didn’t we?” she asked nervously.
“Is your lip gloss flavored?” I blurted.
She laughed, “Dr. Pepper.”
“I like it,” I said, holding out my hand. “You should wear it next time, too.”
“Next time?” she raised an eyebrow as she took my hand.
I smiled and led us out of the woods, back to the fire. We got another drink and chatted until Taylor walked over and asked if we wanted to leave.
“This party is lame. Let’s go.” As we turned to walk off she peered at me, examining my face. “You look different. Did something happen?”
I smiled. “Nah, just danced with a ghost.”