NOAH

(Age 9)

It took two weeks of my pestering before Lilah finally caved and agreed to let me come over to her house.

I raced home from school, dumped my backpack in my room, and tore out of the house like a whirlwind. I yelled unintelligibly at the blur that was Ma as I passed by, Gointomyfriendshouse! and I'llbebackbeforedark, and was gone before she had the chance to object.

I ran halfway there, stopping only when my legs were rubber and my t-shirt was drenched in sweat.

When I got to the cabin, I was surprised to find Lilah already waiting for me.

She was perched on the top step of her rickety front porch with an open book in her lap. Her head lifted when she spotted me crossing the yard, a smile playing on her lips. She marked her page and stood to greet me.

"Ready?" I asked when I reached her. I peered over her shoulder at the darkened windows of the cabin. Major vampire vibes.

She looked at the sad little house, with its peeled, green paint and bowing beams like she expected someone to be staring back. Then, her face filled with a kind of weary determination and she nodded.

I wondered where her mother was, and if she knew what Lilah was doing. My gut told me no, which was all the more reason we needed to get going.

"Let's get out of here," I said, with a mischievous grin.

Her smile transformed her jade-green eyes, lighting them up like gemstones.

She started marching alongside me like we were soldiers on a mission. A mission to break some rules. It was the first time since I'd met her that she looked sure about anything.

I led Lilah to the trail that would take us to Silver Creek.

The narrow path was humming with heat and buzzing insects. Overhead, a canopy of leaves sliced the sun into shadows, while the smell of green life swirled in the air and danced with the trees.

Still, none of it drew me like Lilah's colors. They were glowing and warm, like a lit candle on a dark night, and I was a helpless moth. I studied them every chance I got, letting myself absorb them. It was comforting just to be in her presence.

Before long, the sound of rushing water became distinct and grew louder with each bend in the path.

The trail opened up, the creek coming into view. We both shielded our eyes as the sun bounced off the water like diamonds, sending brilliant, white light dancing across us and down the embankments.

Leaving the shade was like stepping into a broiler. Heat pounded down on us blistering waves. I went straight to the water's edge and splashed my sweaty face and arms, the taste of salt strong on my lips.

If Silver Creek had been in any other place, it would have been called a river. But, since we claimed the mighty Mississippi—the Nile of North America—and this was just a puddle in comparison, it was named Silver Creek.

"It's shallow right here," I pointed a finger, "but it gets deep fast. Out in the middle, it's over your head." The excitement was plain in my voice. "I can show you all the best places to swim if ya want."

I glanced back at Lilah who still hadn't moved from the trailhead.
She stared at the water, her eyes sweeping back and forth, taking it all in, but something had changed in her expression.

"Come on," I said, gesturing toward the water. She took a few measly steps closer.

I frowned, unable to wrap my head around my growing disappointment.

Wanting her to be excited again, I dipped my hands down into the cool water and sent a handful flying in her direction. It splashed across her folded arms, her eyes going wide.

"Noah!" she shrieked, shaking them like a drenched cat. Then, a huge smile split her face in two, one I immediately returned.

"Well come on. What are you waiting for?"

Her eyes fell to the ground. This seemed to be her habit whenever she was uncomfortable. Something was wrong.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's just... I don't..." Her voice was like a mouse's. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest while her cheeks bloomed scarlet. Finally, she said, "I can't swim," barely loud enough to hear over the rushing water.

Oh.

I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me, though it seemed fairly obvious looking at her just then. The way her eyes scanned the water like an animal sizing up a threat. Her hesitation to come there in the first place.

"Well, that's ok," I said, trying to reassure her. "It's not deep right here. Look." I ripped off my shoes and socks and waded a few feet into the water.

She watched me ambling around in the shallows making a fool out of myself until the scarlet faded from her cheeks. Almost without seeming conscious of it, she took a step toward me. Then, another.

When she reached the water's edge, she slipped off her shoes. I put my hand out for her to take.

Our eyes found each other's, and at that moment, I wanted nothing more than for her to trust me. "Don't worry. I'd never let you drown, Lilah Mayberry."

Her lips twitched a smile.

She took my hand and carefully stepped into the water.

We moved slowly at first while she got a feel for the rocks under her feet and the pull of the current. The water was heaven, turning the sun down from scorching broiler to easy-bake oven.

Little by little, her body relaxed and her steps grew bolder. When she finally let go of my hand, disappointment swelled in my chest though I tried not to let it show.

After cooling off, we returned to the trailhead to retrieve our socks and shoes.

We stuck to the banks of the creek and traveled upstream to a spot known by all the locals as The Knot.

It was on a hard bend where the current was strong and the water was at its deepest. Someone had made a swing by fashioning a knotted rope to an overhanging limb.

To use it, you had to climb up a steep embankment and hold on for dear life while the momentum swung you out over the deep part.

If you didn't choke up enough on the rope, or if you let go too soon, you were in for a world of hurt. The act was usually only attempted by the dumb, the intoxicated, and the cocky. Mostly guys just trying to showoff.

Sure enough, when we reached the rope swing, the sound of drunken adolescence filled the air.

The Knot was a major party spot for high schoolers due to its prime location and reckless appeal.

Before anyone could spot us, Lilah and I ducked behind some bushes near the water's edge and watched as the rowdy group carried on.

Half-naked bodies were everywhere, gleaming in the sun. Girls in bikinis and guys in swim trunks lounged in the water while music played from some unknown source.

Guys sipped from cans and brown beer bottles, girls from red solo cups. The air was thick with hormones and bad decisions.

A small group was gathered near the rope swing, the boys all in friendly competition. They hooted and hollered while each took a turn, trying to prove whose dick was biggest by attempting the most dangerous stunts.

Following a particularly bad belly flop, a very lean, very tan, blonde guy stepped up to the rope. All the girls watched in awe.

Idiots.

The lot of them.

"Do you think we'll act that stupid when we're teenagers?" I whispered.

"Probably," she replied. "Seems like everyone does when they grow up."

I couldn't argue with that.

I turned to look at her, but she was preoccupied, watching the handsome blonde just like every other girl there.

He gripped the rope firmly and did a running leap. With perfect form, he swung far out over the deep and backflipped into the water.

The girls all seemed to hold their breath, waiting for him to resurface. When his head broke the water, you could almost see the relief dripping in their panties.

He swam triumphantly back to shore and went straight to a brunette in a child-sized bikini. His hand slipped down the back of her bottoms, and he tugged her flush against his wet skin.

Her arms wrapped around his neck while their tongues went down each other's throats. A shameless dry-humping proceeded and I watched in pure disgust.

I glanced at Lilah, expecting to find her in a similar state of horror at their open display. But, to my surprise, she seemed enthralled by it.

Her gaze fixated, she studied the pair with a dopey sparkle in her eyes. It was almost a look of...

...admiration?

A sour taste filled my mouth and swirled in my gut. I watched her, watching them until my cheeks grew hot. Until I couldn't anymore.

Suddenly, I wanted to be far away from the handsy pair. More specifically, I wanted Lilah to stop ogling the bronzed god of backflips.

Didn't she realize she was way too young to be watching this? To be watching him?

I cleared my throat. "We should go before they catch us spying."

It took Lilah a long moment to pry her eyes away from the couple, and I found myself getting irritated.

Finally, she nodded.

Once we were a safe distance away from The Knot, I started to feel like myself again. I clung to the fact that Lilah was there with me, and the excitement I felt earlier.

We spent the rest of the afternoon at the trailhead, taking turns cooling off in the water, neither of us mentioning what we saw at The Knot.

By the time we started making our way home, Lilah seemed less afraid of Silver Creek than I was.

After that first excursion, we developed a sort of ritual.

Every day after school, we would meet at her house. I would always find her in the same place-sitting on her sagging front porch with an open book in her lap, a few more pages flipped each time.

We'd spend the evenings at the creek, catching frogs and tadpoles. Or, in the woods, climbing trees. We played hide-and-seek on the old cotton farm by my house.

The owner was an old man with a bad limp and a kind heart. He and my father hated each other's guts, but he was always good to us boys, letting us play on his land whenever we wanted.

Sometimes, we'd spy on the teenagers partying at the Knot, always at Lilah's insistence. And, always filling me with unease.

On occasion, other kids would join us on our expeditions, but most of the time it was just me and Lilah.

It's not that I didn't have other friends, because I did.

It's just that when me and Lilah were together, we were like a team. Working together. Knowing what the other was feeling or thinking without needing words.

Being with her was easy. Natural. It was like hanging out with myself. We were always on the same page, never needing to explain ourselves to the other.

We were together so much that my brother Reid started calling us Cotton Ball and Candy Cane, like a bizarre pair of twins, or something.

I didn't mind the fact that when people thought of one of us, they pictured both of us.

It did bother me when people thought we were brother and sister, though. Even if it did seem that way at times, we weren't. And, that felt important, though I wasn't quite sure why.

Lilah didn't like to talk about her mother and I never brought her up. It seemed like anytime I tried she would get all quiet and shy again, so after a while, I quit trying. All I knew about the woman was that she worked nights at a bar in Silver City and that she slept most of the day because of it.

Lilah acted like she preferred it when her mother wasn't around, but deep down I wondered. I knew what it was like to have parents that didn't care about you.

My Pops was the biggest, meanest, motherfucker I knew.

Ezekiel Montgomery.

Prejudiced. Racist. A drunk.

A miserable old fuck who hated everything and everyone, including-and especially-himself. He didn't care if we never came home again. I'd be surprised if he even noticed.

And, Ma only really had two rules for me and my brothers. Be home by dark, and don't get ourselves into any trouble that we couldn't get ourselves out of.

She had a lot on her plate dealing with three, foul-mouthed boys and a drunken asshole for a husband. Years of putting up with my dad's shit had made her docile, an easy push-over.

I loved her dearly and I knew she loved us. Problem was, she couldn't love herself. Which, at times, seemed to trump everything else.

She had the solid framework for the makings of a good mother. But, no roof or walls to keep out the rain, rendering her useless on stormy days.

Most of the time, I didn't mind the lack of parental supervision.

Being left to our own devices most afternoons and weekends, there wasn't much we didn't get into in Midnight. Adventures. Trouble. Mischief.

We were explorers testing the boundaries of everything and everyone, having each other's backs, learning to rely on one another.

We were inseparable. 

Months passed, my birthday came and went, and I still hadn't laid eyes on Lilah's mom. I was starting to doubt the woman actually existed. Or, that maybe she really was a vampire after all.

I hung on to the hope of that fantasy, letting it paint a bloody, fang-filled picture of the woman. I preferred that theory because the alternative was that she just didn't care.

And for some unexplainable reason, that filled me with more dread than the thought of her sucking the life out of people.

Those vampire daydreams were all I had to go on... until one night a few months into the new school year.

I was walking Lilah home like I always did, except this time we got back later than usual. It was already dark and I knew I was gonna get my ass beat when I got home, but I never felt right making Lilah walk alone.

We were almost to her porch when the screen door crashed open, startling us both. We froze and looked up, only to find who I assumed was Lilah's mom charging through the door, shoving a big burly man out with her. It was only then that I noticed the motorcycle parked beside the house.

Neither of them seemed to notice us.

Mrs. Mayberry placed her hands on his chest and shoved hard, causing him to stumble backward, almost right off the porch. For such a small woman, I was surprised at the sheer force.

"You crazy fucking bitch!" he shouted, regaining his footing. He balled his massive fists and took a step toward her.

"Do it you piece of shit! Hit me!" she taunted, getting right in his face. He looked like he was considering it, his face contorted in anger and his eyes full of crazy.

Instead, he grabbed her by the arms and forced her backward. They slammed into the wall of the cabin, Mrs. Mayberry pinned by his weight.

It was like watching a car wreck in slow motion, and for some reason, I couldn't peel my eyes away, which only made everything feel that much worse.

"You think you're so damn special, don't you?" he sneered. "But, I see right through you. Everyone knows you fucked half the guys in that bar. You know what they call you behind your back? Huh?" Mrs. Mayberry squirmed under him but he grabbed her chin and held it in place. "Midnight Maggie, the two-bit whore bartender."

Lilah's fingers dug deep into the muscle of my arm. I hadn't even realized she was holding onto me. I moved my body in front of hers, sure that whatever was coming next, she didn't need to see. And, not a moment too soon.

Mrs. Mayberry's eyes flashed with rage and she didn't hesitate. She spit directly in the guy's face, her eyes seething with defiance. "Fuck you."

For a second, everything was still, but the fuse had burned out, the bomb about to explode.

Saliva dripped from the guy's face and his chest swelled. One hand held her in place while the other went inside his leather vest, reaching for something. "I could fucking kill you-"

I distinctly heard the cocking of a trigger.

Lilah made a sound beside me, a garbled whimper, and he froze, mid-sentence. Mrs. Mayberry's head snapped in our direction, her eyes going wide.

Following her gaze, the man finally spotted us in the yard. He dropped his hands, releasing his vicious grip on her.

Sweet relief filled my lungs.

He turned back to Lilah's mom, throwing her one last look of disgust.

"This ain't over Maggie. Far from it."

He took a step back, running a hand through his greasy, black hair. The sound of his boots was heavy on the sinking porch, and I prayed it would collapse underneath him.

No such luck.

He stomped over to his bike and straddled it, nudging the kickstand up with his boot. Just before starting the engine he said, "I'll see you around," which sounded more like a threat than parting words.

He started the bike and revved the throttle, the motor growling like an angry beast, making Lilah flinch and clutch my arm tighter.

Hungry, I thought. It sounded hungry.

He tore through the yard, leaving dark tire marks in the grass, gunning it when he hit the road.

The three of us watched him disappear.

Mrs. Mayberry waited for the sound of the engine to fade before she turned her gaze toward us, a dangerous look in her eyes.

She marched her way over, and my palms started to sweat. A sinking feeling hit me like I was about to be punished.

It was the same kind of feeling I'd get looking at the cold fire in Pop's eyes...

...right before he whipped the flesh from my back.

"Who's this, Lilah?" she asked, nodding to me.

Lilah still looked too mortified to speak, so I answered instead. "Noah, Ma'am-Mrs. Mayberry," I corrected.

"Name's not Mayberry. It's Jepson. Maggie Jepson," she said, as if she didn't appreciate the mix-up.

Her mother fixed her narrowed eyes on me like I was a bug that needed squishing. "And, who're your parents?"

"Zeke and Celia Montgomery, Ma'am."

She nodded with a look of pure disdain on her face. The move seemed well practiced, and I got the strong impression she didn't like me or my parents one bit.

I would learn later that it was people in general she despised.

"You run along home now," she said, her voice cold and emotionless. She nodded towards the road.

I looked over at Lilah who was staring at me now, wide-eyed and on the verge of tears. "Bye, Lilah," I nodded.

I felt her eyes following me the whole way across the yard.

"Get in the house," I heard her mother snap.

At the edge of the property, I turned around to find Lilah's tiny form retreating into the house, followed by her mother.

That was the first time I met Lilah's mother, Maggie, and the first time she made my own mother look like a Goddamn saint.