Read Watch How We Walk Online

Authors: Jennifer LoveGrove

Watch How We Walk (23 page)

— Keep going, keep going, keep going. She must stay alert, she must find a clue, just like Trixie Belden, who would never give up just because it's cold out. Then again, Trixie always had Honey and Jim to help her, but today, in the woods, Emily has no one. She walks faster. The sun is behind the trees now, between layers of blue and yellow and purple — the colours of a bruise. There's less than an hour left before it will be completely dark.

The snow crunches where it had melted and frozen over again. Trees glint in the remaining light and she squints. Her only plan is to look for footprints. Her eyes scan the snow for Lenora's Doc Marten imprints or anything indicating that someone has been trudging through there recently. Maybe Lenora found an abandoned cabin, once used by hunters, and she's warm and dry, hiding out with her friends. Maybe Theo lied about breaking up, to throw her off. Even though Lenora's not supposed to have a worldly boyfriend — or any boyfriend, for that matter — Emily doesn't want to believe that they've broken up.

— Concentrate, concentrate. She mumbles aloud as the leafless branches continue to shake around her, as though they're trying to tell her something, as though they know something she doesn't, and far past the trees, on some farm on the other side of the woods, a dog howls. Emily wraps her arms around herself and pulls her thick wool toque down over her ears.

Please Jehovah, let me find Lenora's footprints.
Emily trudges along, counting her own steps as she prays.
Let me find her footprints before it gets too dark. Please.

35

DJ MORG AT THE CAVERN.
New Wave & Punk. Every Monday night. Dress code enforced.

There was no lineup when I arrived. I checked the address on the flyer that Theo had dropped on the street. This was the place. My feet throbbed and my empty stomach gurgled in fear. I had never been to a place like that, or to any night club, and I was so nervous, I hadn't eaten all day, afraid I might throw up. What if they didn't let me in? What exactly did the dress code consist of? What was I supposed to do when I found Theo? He'd been so scared of me when we collided on the street. Maybe, because of all the makeup, he wouldn't recognize me. I deserved another chance.

The bouncer was impassive, his face, a boulder. He glanced at my identification and waved me in. I exhaled in relief and tossed my license back in my purse, not bothering to shove it in my wallet. I had been terrified that I may not pass the dress code. Inside, the lights were dark, with occasional flashes of blue or green or red. The music was loud and the bass rattled the floor. I didn't recognize the song, and it was far too early for anyone to dance. There weren't many people there yet, just a few ageing punks with mohawks playing pool, a group of girls in black eyeliner reading Tarot cards by candlelight in the corner, and a dozen or so others in black leather, crinolines, and army fatigues clustered around the bar.

I felt conspicuous as I weaved between a handful of small tables along the sides. I hoped no one could tell what a fraud I was. Could they kick me out? What was I doing there?

I locked myself in a bathroom stall for as long as I could stand it. The graffiti was the same as anywhere: who loves who, who's an asshole, favourite bands, and pseudo-philosophical quotations. Despite my obsessive and pathological need for solitude, I wished I had a friend with me, someone who would encourage me to talk to Theo, and reassure me when I panicked.

I'm scared. What do I do when I find him?

You're always scared. I already told you what to do.

Pick up where you left off.

That's right. You owe me.

The person next to me flushed the toilet. My cheeks burned. I hadn't heard anyone else come in. I waited until she left before I came out, and washed my hands and smoothed my hair at the mirror. Then a girl with spiked pink hair and a pierced lip lumbered in. Her fishnets were torn and she had a bottle of beer in each hand. Black Label. She didn't acknowledge me. A drink seemed a good enough way to kill more time until Theo showed up. I headed for the bar.

It was the first beer I'd ever bought for myself. Despite all the drinks I served at work, I never stayed afterwards for a pint with Kameela and Grant and the other staff. They thought I was a freak, and I didn't want to unintentionally do anything else to reaffirm their opinion.

It didn't taste as bad as I had expected, and I sipped it slowly, getting used to it, alone at a small bistro table on the edge of the dance floor. I had a good view of the entrance area and the bar, and watched more and more black-clad new wavers and punks arrive. I was relieved that I wasn't the only person to show up alone; apparently it was the kind of place where it was cool to be solitary. People gradually straggled onto the dance floor, kicking their legs to guitar chords and slamming into each other. I didn't know all of the songs, but I recognized a few from Lenora's tapes or the radio, which was better than I expected.

I craned my neck to survey the growing crowd around the bar. No sign of Theo. I didn't want it to look so obvious that I was waiting for someone, but no one appeared to watch me anyway. They either chatted to one another in the booths along the sides of the club or stared at the floor while dancing. I went to the bar for another beer.

— Thanks. I nodded to the bartender and dropped my change into the tip jar. Both his arms were covered in multi-coloured tattoos. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

— Black Label, huh?

I looked behind me. My stomach turned inside out. The crowd cheered as the opening bass line from Alien Sex Fiend's “I Walk the Line” boomed. Theo laughed. If he recognized me from last week on the sidewalk, he didn't let on. I took a huge swig from my beer and nearly choked.

— Easy there!

— Uh . . . yeah. Black Label. I stared at him. He lifted his own bottle of Black Label.

— Cheers.

— Cheers. My heart beat so hard I thought my ribcage would shatter. I was grateful for the loud music.

Theo held out his hand. He wore a plain black t-shirt, black jeans, and eight-hole boots like mine.

— I'm Zack.

Zack? Isn't this Theo?

Yes. He's lying.

Instinctively, I shook his hand, still staring at him in disbelief. His hand was rough and dry.

— And do you have a name?

— Uh, yeah. Sure.

He watched me.

— So what is it?

I took a deep breath and exhaled.

— My name is Lenora.

36

EMILY TAKES OFF HER MITTS
and blows on her hands again to warm them, then struggles into the left one, tugging it over her cast. The light is now bright orange and dark purple and blazes through the trees as though chasing her, and the icy branches rattle dully in the wind. Her skin prickles and she shivers and trudges farther into the woods.

If Lenora really is out here, Emily hopes she's warm enough; there's no smell of wood smoke in the air, and the ground is so cold it crunches when she walks. She hopes she found somewhere warm and dry to sleep, and has enough food. After three days, she must be hungry. Emily should have brought something for her to eat, even just a peanut butter sandwich. Why didn't she think of that? Why can't she do anything properly? She could have made a sandwich, even with her broken hand. Then again, maybe Lenora is just hiding out at some friend's house like everyone keeps saying, listening to music and laughing at them all for trying so hard to find her.

— You'd better not be!

It feels good to say it aloud. Maybe Lenora doesn't know how worried everyone is, or how much trouble she's going to be in when she gets home. It's better that Emily gets to her first, to warn her, to advise her on the best time to come back. Like tonight, while everyone else is out of the house. Lenora should say she was out walking in the bush and fell, hit her head hard on a rock and got amnesia, and that's why she couldn't remember how to get home. Emily's familiar face would snap Lenora out of it, and they'd come home together like nothing had ever happened. Lenora will be impressed that Emily thought of that. Everyone will be so grateful to Emily for bringing her back, they won't even be mad at Lenora anymore. Emily will be a hero.

The wind whistles like a living thing and pushes at her back, coaxing her to keep looking. It's almost dark, and Emily is glad she remembered the flashlight. The exhilaration of having escaped the house has worn off, and she fights off the fear that seeps through her coat and into her skin and chills her blood. She must be brave. Trixie Belden was never scared away from solving a mystery, and Lenora isn't afraid of anything. Emily starts to sing to make herself feel stronger.

She runs through all of “Frosty the Snowman,” as loud as she can while scanning the ground for footprints or other clues. It's one of the few songs they're allowed to sing at school in December, since it's not actually about Christmas, just winter. Some people at the Hall won't sing it though, because they say it's close enough to a Christmas carol, and worldly people think that it is, which makes it bad enough. Emily's parents don't think there's anything wrong with it though, and they even watched the cartoon
Frosty the Snowman
on television this year.

Next she sings her favourite Hall song:

Let's watch how we walk, and watch how we talk

That thus we may be alert and wise,

Buying out the opportune time,

Since this world in Satan lies.

Yes, watch how we walk and watch how we talk

That thus we may be alert and wise.

Alert and wise
. That is what Emily is trying to be, so that she might be the one to find Lenora. She doesn't even get to the second verse before she sees something in the arc of the flashlight ahead of her. It's red and looks like a glove — one of Lenora's.

— Lenora! Emily sounds more panicked than she means to, and she tries to sound more calm, so she doesn't chase her away.

— Lenora! It's just me!

If her sister is nearby, she doesn't answer back. Emily runs, sliding a little, toward the glove. A little farther ahead rests a huge rock at the edge of a ravine.

Emily rounds the boulder and shines the light over it. She stops so suddenly that she skids and nearly falls. It's her. It's Lenora. It's her sister, just sitting there, lounging in the snow against the rock. She found her. She grins and calls her name again.

She has never been so relieved in her life.

— Hurry up, you have to come home, they're gone and we can sneak in, only Mom's there now. It's your perfect chance!

Lenora says nothing, only stares straight ahead. There is something in her right hand.

— Seriously, come on! We're going to tell them you had amnesia, but you're okay now. Let's go!

Lenora is playing a trick on her, refusing to answer. She's mad at Emily for finding her, and giving her the silent treatment. Emily will not be ignored.

— The entire congregation is out looking for you. They might even call the police soon, so you have to come with me!

Nothing.

— It's not funny! We have to get home right now!

— Stop it! She stomps her foot on the hard ground and steps closer to her sister.

— Cut it out!

Lenora doesn't move. She doesn't answer. Her profile looks different, somehow wrong. The wind rattles the envelope crumpled under Lenora's hand and Emily snatches it from her. Then she looks down and on Lenora's left, under a thin dusting of snow, is a rifle.

— Lenora!

Emily pulls her scarf away from her throat and screams and pushes her sister. Lenora's body is rigid and slides sideways. Emily's hands shake and the flashlight jerks over the scene, lighting up fragments that won't stay still, like living shards of a nightmare.

Red all over the rock. Red in the glaring snow. Red ice clumped in her hair.

The back of her head clean gone.

Emily vomits. She falls to the snow beneath her and vomits again. She loses count of how many times. She can't breathe. She can't hear. She sees only streaks of light around her as the flashlight rolls down the hill. She kneels in the snow, heaving. The wind shakes the trees and the branches crack and rattle, driving ice and snow into her face as she looks up into the dark. The world is spinning and sharp like broken glass and Emily cannot see anything else above her.

The wind carries her screams high into the empty sky and leaves them there.

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