The Outermost

 

 

The Outermost

 

 

That morning:

            “Connor, come on! You take forever. I swear you’re like a girl!” Rae Gladwell shouted up the stairs of her parents’ Beacon Hill town house. It was warm and her overstuffed duffle bag was already propping open the heavy glass door. She checked her watch again.

She had told her brother to be ready by ten, actually expecting him to be ready by ten thirty, still giving her time to get to Provincetown by 1:00 pm. She knew they probably should have left much earlier (if they wanted to beat traffic), but as an 18 year old herself, Rae needed her sleep just as much as any other. This, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that she’d been out to a party until 2 am the night before.

Addie Sarason had thrown a graduation party for their entire class, the party of the year. Almost everyone had shown up, well, anyone who was anyone had shown up, including Ace Quiller, whom Rae had been most eager to see. Addie had spent the last month trying to get the two of them together and her graduation party was supposed to be the night.

Rae had arrived late. Her parents had taken her out to Legal Seafood, her favorite restaurant, after graduation. Besides her high school graduation, they were also celebrating Rae’s and Connor’s first summer on their own. Their parents were leaving for Tuscany in the morning, while Rae and her younger brother were heading to Provincetown for the next two and a half months. They had spent their summers there as a family, but this was the first year that the two would be entrusted to live on their own.  It had seemed like a great idea at the time, that was before they had realized that their pooled resources could only buy them ten weeks at the local hostel instead of the regal Lands End Inn that they had grown accustomed to each summer. And of course, before she had hooked up with Ace Quiller.

Rae shook her head as if to clear it, giving her mahogany brown hair a fervent toss.  She parted her glossed lips and bellowed up the stairs once more.

“Connor!! I swear on Grandma Becket’s grave, I’ll kick your a*s if you don’t get down here right now!” She stomped her foot against the polished hardwood. She would do it, too. He knew she would hit him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Rae turned to check her reflection in the hall mirror. She puckered her lips and combed her long, shiny hair with her fingers. She smiled at herself and practiced a seductive face, remembering how she had drunkenly seduced Ace Quiller the night before. Well, seduced was a relative term. They had kissed and then Ace had tried to force himself on her. So, she had kicked him. Hard. Where it hurt. The whole school was talking about it on SpaceBook.com. She was the new queen of Boston High.  God knows it had taken long enough.

She mimed a kiss toward her reflection and turned just in time to avoid getting pummeled by a flying blue duffle bag. She caught it easily and let it drop loudly to the floor.

“Connor!”

A dirty blonde head poked out over the railing. “What? You wanted me to hurry up! And what’s the fastest route between two points?”

“What are you…”

“A straight line!” He laughed. He knew he had her there. He was always trying to show her up. Rae was smart, yes, that couldn’t be denied. But Connor was smarter.

He perched on top of the highly polished railing and stopped to look around dramatically, in mock terror. “Are mom and dad gone?” He widened his eyes.

Rae exhaled sharply. “Yes.” She took a wide step to the side.

Connor promptly let go and went sailing down the slick wooden railing. “Wooo!” He yelled as he flew easily through the air and onto his sneakered feet. He brushed himself off, still dramatizing, and nodded to his sister. “Okay, let’s go!” He grabbed his bag and pushed past her to the door. He held it open. “Come on, come on. I don’t have all day, ya know.”

Rae scrunched her nose and mouth together in quiet exasperation. Her brother would be the death of her one day, she was sure of it. She didn’t know if she would last for ten weeks…or if he would.

There was traffic on the MA-3, but Rae made good time. Connor drowsed through most of the two and half hour trip, but woke up right around Chatham, muting his mp3 player and removing his glasses to stare out at the familiar Nantucket Sound. Rae kept driving and fumbling with the radio, trying in vain to switch to something that wasn’t country. They stopped after the Conwell Street exit and Rae whipped out her cell phone to check on Justine Hamilton, a friend from cheerleading, who would be spending the summer with them.

“Hey, girl! What’s crackin?” Rae asked, twirling her hair. Connor glanced quickly and disgustedly in her direction.

A chipper, high-pitched voice answered, “Rae, oh my god. What’s the 411? Where you guys at?”

“Just coming into P-town, now. Are you still stuck in traffic?”

“No, girl, I’m here! Got here about fifteen minutes ago. I met your friend, Matt, by the way. He’s kinda cute…in an off-beat way. He’s been talking to the lady at the restaurant this whole time, though. Weird. She’s not even pretty.”

“Cindy,” Rae and Connor answered in unison. Rae shot a knowing glance in Connor’s direction. He must have overheard. It wasn’t difficult, considering the fact that Justine had been named cheer captain based on the fact that she drowned out the rest of the girls on the squad.

“Yeah, she’s like…old. Anyway, turn down Commercial and pick me up.”

“Okay, I think I see you. Ooohh you look cute. Okay, bye.” Rae slammed her phone shut and pulled into a spot in front of Bayside Betsy’s, their home away from home.

The restaurant was owned by Robbie Stoker, one of their dad’s oldest friends from law school. Robbie had moved out to Cape Cod after twenty years practicing law, fed up with a life of corruption. So, he had taken over Bayside Betsy’s along with a number of other beach-side bars and restaurants and Rae and Connor had been working for him for the past three summers. But this year would be different, though. Rae would be bartending instead of hosting and Connor would be waiting tables instead of washing dishes. And they were on their own for the first time.

The two leaped out of the car, grateful for the opportunity to stretch. A tall, dark-haired girl flitted her bikini-clad body across the street and swept Rae into a tight hug.

“Ahhh,” she shrieked. “I’m so happy we’re here!” She shook Rae from side to side, staring out at the white-sand beach.

“I know, finally right?” Rae took a step back, “Wow have you just been walking around the street in that bathing suit?” She surveyed the tight, strategically-placed hot pink material and the way it hugged Justine’s dark skin. She looked like a rock star, or a playboy model.

“Yeah, well I thought it would be smart to make a good first impression, you know? Right off the bat…just show ‘em what they’re up against. Ha-ha!” She cackled.

Rae shook her head and smiled. That was why she had invited Justine for the summer. Her sense of adventure and carefree energy would make the next ten weeks even more fun.

“Come on, let’s go in and say hi.” Rae steered them toward the restaurant. Connor lagged behind, not exactly heartbroken that he’d been ignored. He was used to it. Rae’s friends usually acknowledged him as her “cute little brother” and said things like “oh my god, Connor, you’re gonna be so hot when you get older,” or “Oh, Connor, you’re so lucky to have Rae as a sister. You get to hang out with all of us hot chicks!” And they would laugh and pinch his cheek and then they would promptly ignore him.

He preferred it that way. Justine was no longer impressed with Connor’s jokes or his “Zack Morris hair” as she had called it. It was fine. He was looking forward to hanging out with Matt and his friends this summer, anyway.

The three trudged up the short ramp to enter the electric blue and white building. Connor noticed Matt’s painted red bike tethered to the telephone pole, despite the fact that the bike rack was empty. He smiled.

Inside, the smell of burgers and Betsy’s internationally acclaimed chowder wafted through them. A short, bull of a nineteen-year-old boy leaned far over the front counter, in hushed conversation with the receptionist. He ran a hand over his closely-cropped dark hair and turned to face them.

“Yo! Look who finally made it! Thought you kids had gotten lost!” He fixed them with his smiling green eyes and held his muscular arms wide. Rae gave him a devilish smile and leaped into his arms.

“Matt, you haven’t changed at all.” She shot him a knowing glance.

“What’d you expect, kid? Huh? Mmm, you’re looking ravishing. Ohh and whose your friend.” His voice dropped an octave as he mocked pushing her aside to eye Justine from head to stiletto. “Enchante,” he curled his lip and reached for her hand. Justine looked a bit taken aback, looking to Rae for understanding.

“Yo, Matt! What am I fried calamari?” Connor shouted from the door. He put on his best Tony Soprano voice.

“Ahh, my main man!” Matt perked up, dropping Justine’s hand for the time being. “Oh the fried calamari! Is it summer again, already? Wasn’t it just yesterday that we were gagging over that stuff?” He laughed heartily, grabbing Connor’s outstretched hand and pulling him in for a tight hug. “Dude, you’ve grown like a foot. What are you like fifteen now? Oh, s**t. You’re birthday’s like this week isn’t it? Damn, dude. The ladies are a-waitin’!” He tousled Connor’s dirty blonde hair.

“So, uh…you guys remember Cindy.” Matt stepped back to reveal the lady at the desk. They did remember her.  They had only worked with her for the past three years. She was the source of quite a bit of drama at Betsy’s actually. Last year, Matt had spent the entire summer shamelessly courting the thirty-four-year-old divorcee. By August, she had given in, even going so far as to sneaking Matt into the Squealing Pig and buying him Sam Adams all night and accompanying him to the end-of-summer block party where they promptly made out in the alley for hours.

She wasn’t unattractive. She might have been almost beautiful once. But now she was too tan, too blonde, and too…fake. Rae noted two new additions to the Cindy canvas…two very large additions, not at all covered by the too-tight Betsy’s tank top she was squeezed into.

“Of course. Cindy, how’ve you been?” Rae addressed her. They had never quite gotten along. Rae wasn’t sure why, but the two had always remained civil nonetheless.

Cindy nodded, scrunching the left side of her face. Rae assumed that meant hello.

“Err, this is my friend Justine Hamilton. I think you might have met. She’ll be waiting tables with Connor this year.”

Cindy eyed Justine and settled back into her chair with a “humpf.”

“Okay, then. We’re gonna go check in. Matt are you sticking around? Right, never mind.” Matt had gone back to holding Cindy’s hand above the counter and whispering god-knew-what into her ear. Rae turned on a heel and ushered everyone out.

They arrived at the hostel in no time at all. Rae turned down Winslow street and scrunched her nose in mild distaste at the road sign.

She remembered the conversation she had had with her parents a month before. They had tried to discourage the two from going to Provincetown for the summer, going so far as to “put their foot down,” but Rae had thrown an absolute fit. She wasn’t proud of it. But she had gotten her way, nonetheless. Her last childish act had been successful in that they were here and now had an opportunity to showcase their maturity. Even if it did mean staying at the hostel, due to their father’s challenge that “mature adults pay for their own vacations.” This was yet another one of his “value of the dollar” lessons. Sure, Rae had stated. Of course they would pay.

Of course they would pay. She was this close to eating her words as she turned into the parking lot and stopped in front of the main “office.” Office? The sign seemed almost sarcastic. The words “hippie shithole” came to mind. She laughed but didn’t share this with the others. Connor was already hopping out of the truck and trudging up the rickety steps.

Fifteen minutes later, they were marching across the overgrown grass to cabin 3. Justine exited the car and ran to meet them as they passed. She hadn’t wanted to go into the office. It was just as well. Old Mr. Cochran would have found her to be a bit…inappropriately dressed.

“So, cabin 3, huh? So what are the chances it’s all a big ruse and it’s like…the penthouse inside?” Justine’s sarcasm seemed to brighten her.

“Or maybe,” Connor brightened overdramatically, “It’s like in Harry Potter when they go into this tiny little tent that turns out to be this gigantic multi-room apartment inside. Like with a kitchen and a living room and a bedroom, and all!”

“Right. That’s really gonna happen.” Rae shot down his idea, but fired him a loaded look. She had the seen the movie too. It was one of her favorites.

Justine smirked and looked to Rae. “Harry Potter? Connor, you’re so cute. You still watch that mystical, magical crap.”

Rae smiled and kept walking. Typical.

They got to cabin 3 and were not surprised to find it just as they would have pictured from the outside. It was a lot cleaner than they had imagined, but there were a few issues nonetheless.

“Bunkbeds?” scoffed Justine. “I have to sleep in…Rae! What the f…” She started. She put a hand on Connor’s head, “Sorry.” She still thought of him as a kid.  “Well, I’ve got bottom.”

“Bottom? Why? No one ever wants bottom.” Connor said.

Justine dropped her duffel bag onto the thin green comforter. She rolled her eyes, “In case I have a gentleman caller…and well, you know how it is.” She smiled devilishly.

“Ugh. Okay Rae you’re with her.” He mocked disgust and retreated to the other bunk. He threw his bag on the bottom and hopped to the top in a single bound. His fake snoring filled the room.

Connor eventually really did fall asleep and the girls used the time to unpack and to shower and get ready for the evening. The facilities weren’t bad, though the hot water ran out after about ten minutes and there was a series of squeaks and thumps coming from some of the pipes that ran along the wall and into the ceiling.

Connor woke to find both girls dressed to kill and on the front porch sipping wine from crystal glasses. He hopped quietly to the floor and noted the new mini fridge in the front corner of the room. He peeked inside and found a 1998 Cheval Blanc, a six-pack of Cape Cod IPA, and three apples. He shook his head and grabbed a bottle of the local pale ale.

He started toward the door, but took a moment to glance around the room. White walls, white bunk bed frames, green blankets. It was all pretty standard. He sipped his beer, tasting the full-bodied, hoppy liquid. Even at fifteen, Connor could appreciate a good beer. He often drank with his dad back home. It was an “important right of passage” his dad had said. “A man couldn’t go into the world without being able to appreciate certain things.” Apparently, fine wines and alcohol were among those things. Such teachings weren’t lost on Rae either, he noted. He didn’t know how she had gotten her hands on the $250 bottle of wine or the beer, but he didn’t feel like asking.

Connor’s eyes followed the angles of the room, but stopped at the full-length mirror in the back corner. It was out of place. He couldn’t explain what exactly was off about it, but it gave him a strange vibe. He crossed the room and stopped in front of it. He touched the cracked silver frame with one index finger, running it along the top. His finger came away caked with dust. He sipped his beer and stared at his reflection. His khaki shorts and green tee-shirt looked wider than usual, but his neck and head looked oddly elongated. He finished his beer in one large gulp and shuddered. The mirror gave a sort of fun-house effect.

Connor stared at himself and attempted to smooth his unruly blonde hair. It was then that he saw something move within the mirror. A single black shape seemed to waver back and forth deep within. Back and forth, back and forth. Was it his imagination, or did he hear a slight tapping noise going along with it?

No, he wasn’t imagining things. The tapping was getting louder, angrier. The movement of the thin black shape was gaining speed now, getting bigger, smaller, bigger, smaller. A loud crack erupted behind him and Connor jumped, dropping his beer bottle loudly onto the wooden floor.

His breathing intensified. He couldn’t hear anything above the beating of his heart. Backed into the corner now, he stole a glance at the mirror. There was nothing there.

“Connor?” Rae stood holding the porch door open. “What are you doing? Is that empty?” She pointed to the bottle on the floor.  He nodded.

She eyed him suspiciously. “I think the tree outside just fell down or something. I’m going to get Mrs. Cochran. Are you okay? What the hell?”

Connor’s eyes shot to the window in the bathroom. Of course. The window was right across from the mirror. It had been the tree moving back and forth. It was the tree that cracked. He bent to pick up the empty bottle and tossed it lightly into the can across the room.

“You’d better be careful with those, pretty boy.” Justine remarked. Connor rolled his eyes and strode over to grab another one.

“You be careful with those.” He pointed at her chest with the neck of his beer bottle.

She laughed, adjusting the plunging neckline of her sparkling dress. “Hmm, touché.” She had no shame.

 

That night:

            The three ventured out to Commercial Street, the main drag in town. The girls strutted their tipsy, spiky-heeled selves the half-mile to Atlantic House with Connor in tow.  The bumping house music flooded the crowded streets and Rae and Justine had to shout to be heard. After they rounded the corner and joined the onslaught of drag queens and intoxicated women, Connor waved good bye and stalked off toward MacMillan Wharf. The air was warm and breezy and smelled of seawater and funnel cakes. The vendors and small doe-eyed children had given way to the intensity of the real P-town social scene.

            Connor walked along the pier, staring past the bright lights to the yachts and fishing boats bobbing in the water. He ran a hand through his windswept hair and came away with a blob of hair product, which he promptly wiped on his ripped jeans. He checked his cell phone. It was nine forty-two.

            “Check you out, Matt Damon.” A voice boomed behind him.

            Connor smiled but didn’t turn from the wooden railing. “You’re late.” He shook his head dramatically. “So, did you bring it?” He kept his voice low.

            “Sure did mah brotha. Or should I say Mr. Lando Calrissian?”

            Connor spun around in a flash. “Lando Calrissian?! You idiot! That’s a character from Star Wars!” He snatched the small brown bag from Matt’s outstretched hand and ripped out the Massachusetts driver’s license. The ID held his own picture. It was last year’s school picture. He had emailed it to Matt a month ago.

            Connor’s eyes scanned the information: Lando Calrissian, 2101 Kirkland Street, Cambridge, Massachusetts. “You idiot! You absolute…mother…Ugh!” Connor threw up his hands and turned around to lean exasperatedly on the wooden railing.

            “What? Hey, you should be thanking me! This makes you twenty-two. You can get into all of the bars in P-town with that. Hell, you can get into all the bars in the world!” He laughed. “So, what’s the problem?”

            “Let’s see. Well, besides the fact that this makes me a character from Star Wars, my address also happens to be at Harvard University.” He flicked the card six inches from Matt’s naïve-looking face.

            “Ha! Does it really? So, say you’re from Harvard!”

            “Nobody’s from Harvard. You can’t just live at Harvard.”

            “Sorry, so say you go to Harvard. Say you’re the next Stephen Hawking, only better looking.”

            “He went to Oxford.”

            “Doesn’t matter. Hey, you can work this! I know it dude. Chicks will eat that up. And anyway, I’ll be your wingman. No worries.” Matt clapped a hand on Connor’s back and pulled at his shirt by the collar. “Just pop your collar like this…and you’re good to go. Let’s do this.”

            Connor exhaled sharply and followed in Matt’s wake. The two headed toward the Squealing Pig. The place was jam-packed with college kids and Matt and Connor slipped easily into the crowded tavern. A live band played loudly from the corner as they mosied up to the bar.

            “What’s that say? Lando? Is that your name?” Asked the bartender. She was in her late twenties, dark hair, fake breasts, red lipstick. Mildly attractive, if you liked that sort of thing.

            Connor nodded, lifting his eyebrows and tilting his head in an intellectual stare. His heart pounded.

            “Yeah,” Matt leaned in to intervene. “It was supposed to be Landon, but his mom died after giving birth to him. She never got a chance to finish it.”

            Connor’s blood pounded through his veins. He wanted to punch his ignorant friend in the face.

            “Oh that’s so sad.” The waitress bought it. There was something to be said about the level of naivety in P-town. “So what can I get for you Mr. Calrissian? Mr. Salinger?” She replaced their IDs on top of the bar.

            Matt grabbed his and locked eyes with the gullible waitress, “Call me J.D.”

            “Oh Christ.” Muttered Connor.

            The waitress leaned in toward Matt’s suntanned and artfully manipulating face. “And what exactly would you like, J.D?”

            “Well what I want isn’t exactly on the menu, miss. But why don’t we start with a couple of Sam Adams drafts and an order of oysters and see where we end up?” He winked and slapped a twenty on the bar.

            The night flew on in a blur of Summer Ale and rock and roll sing-alongs. By the time 2:30 came around, Connor and Matt were surrounded with local girls, all craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the “hot new yuppies” in town. The boys kept the drinks flowing, but finally hobbled out of the bar leaning on each other, still laughing and fabricating stories of their Harvard days for the benefit of the girls still tagging along by their sides.

            They walked around town, escorting their new friends to their respective hotels or rentals, laughing and singing their way back to the Hostel. It was late, but Rae and Justine weren’t in yet. Connor asked Matt if he should be worried.

            “Nah, they’re probably mackin’ on some local meat, you know what I’m sayin’?”

            Connor grimaced and nodded toward cabin 4 where Matt was staying. He stalked crookedly toward his own cabin and collapsed onto the thin bottom bunk. He wasn’t going to make it to the top. Not tonight.

 

The next day:

            The three made it through their first shift back at Bayside Betsy’s. The owner, Robbie, outfitted them with the season’s uniforms. Bright red polo shirts. Connor shrugged. Rae and Justine gave a collective cringe. How were they supposed to get tips wearing polo shirts?

            Rae took her place behind the bar, familiarizing herself with the various drafts and bottles, cocktails and mixers. The resident bartender, Patricia, had taken the time to show her the ropes and Rae was feeling fairly confident. She was more interested in arranging her hair and clothes in the mirror behind the bottles of wine. It was still early and her shift had only started a few minutes ago. So far, all she’d done was pour two draft beers. The way things were shaping up, it looked like she’d need to keep delving into her graduation money this summer, or at least until the crowds showed up.

            By about four o’clock that afternoon, Rae was eating her words. A sudden influx of eager tourists had the place abuzz. She wasn’t sure if it was the natural course of things, or Justine’s bright idea to flaunt herself out front. To be fair, she had offered to sweep the steps and sidewalk, but Rae had gotten a kick out of her ridiculous antics nonetheless. She had actually attempted to count the number of times Justine bent far over to pick up some nonexistent piece of dirt, hiking her shorts up further than the laws of physics would normally allow. But then again, this was P-town.

            Crowds filled the restaurant from bright blue wall to jam-packed mahogany bar. Somewhere amidst the throng of out-of-towners and day-trippers were Rae and Justine, manically trying to meet every need, while Connor helped Robbie in the kitchen and Cindy…well, Cindy did her usual. Rae shot her every malicious glance in her arsenal as she sat back, filing her long fingernails, muttering a few sentences here and there to inquiring customers.

            By the end of that night, they were all covered in beer, grease, clam chowder, and hot sauce. They were completely spent. And that was just a Sunday.

            The rest of that week flew by in a blur of glaring sunlight, cocky Boston accents, and insatiable appetites. Lucky for Rae, it was also filled with alcohol-consumption and all that came with it. Namely, tips.

            By Friday evening, she was grateful for nothing more than the quiet solitude of her worn, comfy bunk and the whir of the muted ceiling fan above her. Connor was helping Matt finish a few orders in the kitchen. A party of ten had walked in fifteen minutes before the end of their shift and had ordered every difficult item on the menu.

Justine was at the liquor store downtown. Though she had an excellent fake ID, she had sweet-talked the amazingly attractive guy behind the counter on the day they’d arrived and, since then, had made three return visits. In addition to thinking that she was 23 years old, he also probably thought she was an alcoholic.

            Rae smiled to herself, thinking of the money she’d made over the past week. She didn’t need it, not technically. She had more money than she could hope to spend in one summer. After all, graduation was a much-appreciated thing in the Gladwell family, and nothing said appreciation like a sizable check. Plus, her parents had set aside a great deal of money for she and her brother, some of which she had taken ownership of on her 18^th birthday.

Connor didn’t know this. This was one of the reasons why they were in the current predicament. Rae had been uncomfortable abandoning Matt, as he had suggested the Hostel in the first place. It had been much more suited to his meager funds.

Of course Justine had complained at length, but Rae knew that this place was less of a strain on her budget as well. Justine lived like a queen, it was true, but Rae knew that she would be depending on her tips at Betsy’s to get her through the summer.

Besides that, Rae, though it wasn’t common knowledge (not in the least), actually enjoyed managing her money. She was like her dad in that way. She was lavish, yet frugal. If there was such a thing.

She sighed and flipped absent-mindedly at a magazine. One of Justine’s, which translated roughly to brainless, classless crap. She was tired of it. She started to toss the glossy pages away when she heard a slow creaking sound coming from behind her.

She stopped, her breath caught in her throat. The low, thin creaks were followed by a hollow thwap of plastic against something hard. The pulse of blood in Rae’s temples blocked out all other sound. She dared not move, lying ramrod-straight on her bunk, conscious of the empty space below her and her imminent vulnerability.

Her eyes scanned the part of the room that was in view. Unfortunately, it was the wrong part. She clenched her jaw and wished that she could see behind her. Shadows danced along the bare wooden walls, thrown from the ceiling fan revolving above her head.

Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Finally, Rae gathered the resolve to turn her head and rise to a sitting position, all in one fell swoop. Her hair stood on end as she shot a panicked peek at the rest of the cabin.

Everything seemed in order. Connor’s bunk was empty except for a book and a pair of glasses. The rest was bare. Rae took a few deep breaths and quickly leaned far over the railing, eyes flashing to the bunk below her. Nothing. Her breathing started to slow and she laughed out loud.

When she reached the floor, Rae shook her head and tiptoed to the back of the cabin. She pulled the dusty white curtain to the side, peering through the window at the overgrown grass and wildflowers. The sun had just set behind the trees. She spun around on a heel and checked herself in the odd-looking mirror that hung from the wall, straight down to the floor.

The mirror. She couldn’t explain it, but something was off. She stepped forward, not sure what she was looking for. The painted white frame hung haphazardly from the stark wall. It could have been her imagination, or her overtaxed nerves, but there was something…off…about it. She tilted her head to the side. Had that crack been there before?

 

That night:

            Connor left early to meet up with Matt outside the main house. Apparently Matt and good old Mr. Cochran were like “this.” Connor held up two twisted fingers.

            Rae and Justine were headed out on the P-town “strip” as they had begun to call it. So, armed with stellar black dresses and a bottle of nondescript red wine, the girls strutted toward Commercial street and talked absentmindedly about their week.

            “This wine is really terrible,” Justine interjected as Rae recapped her experiences with disgruntled martini-drinkers.

            “What? Oh, it’s not that…Yeah, it is kind of terrible.” Rae choked as she took another swig and passed the bottle to Justine. “What made you get this?”

            “I didn’t! You think I would actually buy this cheap crap?” She thrust her nose into the air. “TJ gave it to me. Threw it in for free.” She winked and thrust her hip to the side.

            “Oh, TJ, huh?” Rae nodded dramatically. “He has good taste.” She took another swig of the dark, biting red liquid.

            “He does.” Justine nodded knowingly. She grabbed the bottle. “He asked me out. He’s coming tonight.”

            “Great.” Rae concentrated on navigating the dark, uneven sidewalk with her four-inch heels. The walked in silence, swigging the awful-tasting wine.

            “So, something sort of happened earlier...and it’s been bothering me a little bit.” Rae began.

            “What?”

            “Well, I was back in the cabin, just lying down, you know, reading a magazine.”

            “And?”
            “Well, I heard this eerie creaking noise from behind me…coming from the window. Well, I thought it was the window. At the time, I was really scared. It almost felt like someone was watching me. And then all of a sudden, there was a kind of…like a ‘wack’ sound. And then it stopped.”

            “A wack? You were lying in the cabin and you heard a ‘wack’?” Justine began to laugh. Rae knew where she was going with this. “Maybe it was Matt in the next cabin.” She began to giggle uncontrollably.

            Rae could see she wouldn’t be getting anywhere with this. Not with Justine. She should have foreseen this.

            She gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Forget it. It was stupid. Anyway, I checked it out and it was nothing. There was nothing back there.”

            Justine’s giggles subsided. “Ok. Cool.”

            “That mirror though…Have you ever looked in that mirror?”

            “Yeah I freakin’ hate it! Makes me look fat.”

            “Yeah, tell me about it.” She paused. “No, but there’s something weird about that thing. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s just weird. Like out of place, you know?”

            “Whoa, slow down Nancy Drew.” Justine threw her hands up defensively.

Rae forced a feeble smile and pushed the idea from her head. She took another deep pull from the bottle of vinegary solution, finishing it. Her head was beginning to get fuzzy already. Finally, they stepped off of the shadowed street and onto the “strip.” The liquor store guy was waiting for them on the bench outside of the club. His spiked hair and sharp features gave him a severe look. Rae wrinkled her nose. He was clutching a bottle of the same red wine.

 

Later that night:

            The girls stumbled into the parking lot of the Hostel to find Connor and Matt sitting on the steps of their cabin, puffing at oversized cigars.  The place reeked of heavy smoke and Connor looked like he was going to be sick.

            “What the hell are you doing, little bro?” Justine pointed a shaky finger at Connor and went into a fit of giggles.

            Connor cringed with distaste. He hated when she pretended they were anything more than forced acquaintances. His eyes watered as he puffed theatrically. “Y’wouldn’t understand, babe.” He exhaled and surveyed the girls’ disheveled dresses and spiky heels, which were now held in their hands, rather than strapped to their tired feet. “Mmm…rough night?”

            Rae shot him a look that said ‘don’t ask’ and pushed past the boys to the cabin and her highly-anticipated bunk. Justine remained outside. She was still feeling tipsy and Matt was giving her the “eye.”

            A few measly hours later, Rae was awoken with a start. A hollow crash reverberated in her head. Her heart beat uncontrollably as she tried to decide if the sound had been a part of her dream.  Or if it had come from behind her, as she suspected. She took a deep, labored breath and whipped her head around, eyes squinted shut. Once again, there was nothing there.

            Connor was awake too, and already jumping down to the worn wooden floor. Rae started to ask him if he had heard that, too.

            “Shhh!” He cautioned as he moved closer to the back of the cabin.

            Rae began to descend the ladder. Justine was sitting upright, clutching the blanket to her body, frowning at the empty space beside her. Rae noted that her dress lie on the floor, along with her bra and underwear.

            She cleared her throat, forgetting her terror for a moment. “Where’s Matt?”

            “How did you? Oh, he had to go. Don’t look at me like that! I’m single. What? It wouldn’t kill you to enjoy yourself every once in a while!”

            Rae smiled and shook her head, wiping her eyes as she looked to where Connor was investigating.

            “So what was that noise, anyway?” Justine slipped an oversized t-shirt over her head and began to walk toward Connor.

            “I don’t know. It really freaked me out, though. I was having the strangest dream at the time. At first, I wasn’t even sure if I was hearing something from my nightmare or not.” Rae shook her head.

            Justine turned back with a quizzical look. “Nightmare? Yeah…I was having one too. Weird.”

            “If you girls are finished comparing dreams and braiding each other’s hair, why don’t you come look at this.” Connor beckoned to them. He stood in the pale light from the window, with one hand extended toward the corner of the room. As the girls grew closer, they realized that he was standing in front of a low, extremely narrow doorway.

            Rae’s heart pounded in her chest. A million realizations rained down on her trembling body. All at once, she remembered it so vividly. It was just like in her dream. Only this was reality. She swallowed hard and backed away.

            “Where the hell did this come from? Oh, don’t even tell me this was what was behind that freaky mirror!” Justine choked. She backed away, alongside Rae. “This s**t happened in the dream I just had.” She clapped a hand to her gaping mouth.

            Connor’s eyes took on an intense quality. Rae studied his silent face. There was something hidden there. He had experienced this before, too. She was sure of it.

 

Author's Note

This, again, was born out of a dream that I had this summer. Of course, I've added to it, including my usual spin. The crazy parts are still to follow, my friends. Believe me.