Chapter 2:
Full Moon
George
waited until the house was silent. He slipped out of bed, cracked open
his bedroom door, and listened. The steady rhythm of Kapuna's snore whispered
from the other bedroom.
He crept
into the kitchen to peek at the clock. It was eleven. Even though it was
normally only a twenty-minute walk to the square, he decided it was time to go.
The burn would slow him, and he didn’t want to be late. The ritual had to take
place at midnight under a full moon. If they missed it, they’d have to wait
until next month, and that would be a lifetime away.
Plus,
Jonathan would be totally mad at him if he had to wait.
George
slipped out the back door.
Sweet flowery scents floated on the night breeze. Walking the road would take less time, but there was a greater chance of being spotted, so he headed for the beach. He walked down the low lava rock wall that separated his yard from Mr. Kim’s.
Sweet flowery scents floated on the night breeze. Walking the road would take less time, but there was a greater chance of being spotted, so he headed for the beach. He walked down the low lava rock wall that separated his yard from Mr. Kim’s.
Barking
erupted from the neighbor’s house. It was Poi Dog. George jumped onto the grass
and sprinted under a row of palm trees. The last thing he needed was for Mr.
Kim to catch him in his backyard again.
He raced
down the beach, past an outrigger canoe pulled high up on the sand. The burn on
his leg began to throb again, and he slowed to a walk.
Thirty
minutes later he neared the town square with the giant banyan tree that covered
almost the whole block. He whistled to let Jonathan know he’d arrived.
Jonathan
emerged from the shadows. “You’re almost late,” he said in low whisper and then
laughed like Bela Lugosi.
“There’s
plenty of time.”
“You bring
the knife?’
“No, I
forgot.”
“Then what
are we going to use?”
George
bent down and picked up a piece of sharp coral. “This will work. We only need a
little blood.”
“Okay
then,” Jonathan said. “Let’s do it.”
George
stabbed his thumb. A tiny blob of blood welled on his skin. He handed the coral
to Jonathan. “Your turn.”
Jonathan
jabbed his thumb and raised his arm. Blood trickled down his hand and into the
cuff of his shirt.
“Weird,”
George said. “Your blood looks black in the moonlight.”
“Woooo. .
. that’s because I’m the zombie king. Press your thumb against mine and we’ll
be zombie kings together.”
George put
his bloody thumb on Jonathan’s and felt a foreboding shiver run down his arm.
When he spoke, his voice came out in a loud, hoarse whisper. “Under this sacred
tree, witnessed by a full moon, we make this pact.”
“Forever
we share the same blood.”
“Together
we’ll stand against mummies, monsters, and denizens of the dark.”
“We’ll
share in the fight against all curses, real and imagined.”
“Blood
brothers forever,” George said.
“Brothers
forever,” Jonathan echoed.
“It is
done,” George said. “Hey, you’re getting blood on your shirt.”
“Shoot! My
auntie will kill me.” Jonathan slipped off his shirt. On his arm, a big
irregular patch of white skin gleamed in the moonlight.
“Hey, your
white blob has grown. It’s bigger. Now it kind of looks like a ghost. Does it
hurt?”
“No. Not
even if I scratch it.” Jonathan dug his thumbnail into the white skin. “I can’t
feel a thing. Auntie Mary thinks it’s from the sun.”
“You’re
kidding.”
“I wish I
were. Then I wouldn’t have to wear long-sleeved shirts all the time.”
“Bummer,”
George said, thinking sometimes it was good to be poor. His grandparents
couldn’t afford dress shirts for everyday wear. He bumped his burn and winced.
“Wish this burn didn’t hurt.”
“Your wish
is my command, oh blood brother of mine. Follow me,” Jonathan said and started
off at a fast pace.
“Where are
we going?”
Jonathan
grinned. “To the Hauola seat.”
George
snorted. “You’re crazy.” A lot of stuff Jonathan believed wasn't true. The
power of the Hauola seat was one of them. “It’s just old superstition.”
“You
shouldn’t make fun of what you don’t understand,” Jonathan said and walked
faster. George had to hurry to catch up.
“Don’t be
mad.”
“I’m not.
I’m just tired of you thinking you know everything. I thought once we were
blood brothers things would change.”
“Change?”
“Yeah,
like you would stop making fun of the things I believe in.”
“I’m not
making fun of anything.”
“Then
you’ll sit in the Hauola seat?”
“I’m
following you, aren’t I?”
Jonathan
didn’t answer.
George
shoved him. “Loosen up. I can’t wait to try it.”
They
hurried past the library to the low rock wall that bordered the bay. Moonlight
glinted off the water, and it felt like they were in a black-and-white movie.
“There it
is,” George said, trying to sound excited, hoping to put Jonathan back into a
better mood. He pointed into the water at the cluster of large rocks that
circled the Hauola stone.
They moved
down the wall to where it was the closest to the stone.
“You
coming in?” he asked as he stripped off his pants and T-shirt.
Jonathan
shook his head. “Nope. Nothing wrong with me.”
“Okay.” He
slipped into the ocean, wearing just his underwear and the bandage on his leg.
The salt water seeped through the gauze and stung his burn. He gritted his
teeth.
Carefully
he made his way to the Hauola stone, climbed onto its natural seat and settled
his feet into a hollow footrest. He slid back a bit and leaned against the tiny
lip of a backrest. It was kind of comfortable.
“What
now?” he asked.
“For
starters, you can laugh at my jokes.” Jonathan said.
“Only if
they’re funny.”
Carefully
George peeled off the bandage and let the gentle waves lap against the wound.
At first, the salt water stung like the devil, and then nothing.
“Here’s
one I made up myself.” Jonathan cleared his throat. “In Hollywood they’re
calling slippahs, flip flops.” He paused. “You’re supposed to ask me
why.”
“Okay.
Why?”
“Because
if you try to flip in them, you’ll flop.” He waited. “You’re not laughing.”
George
raised his leg from the water and squinted. The burn had faded to a pale white.
He grinned and started laughing loud enough to be heard all the way to the
mainland.
“It wasn’t
that funny.”
George
splashed his way back to shore. Jumping out, he shouted, “Look at my leg! It’s
healed.”
Except for
the loss of pigment, the skin looked almost normal.
“You’re
the best blood-brother ever,” George said and slapped Jonathan on the back.
Then he slipped into his clothes. “This calls for a celebration.”
“Like
what?”
“Let’s
have a shaved ice.”
“Where?”
“At The
Dolphin on Front Street.”
“They’re
not open.”
“So we’ll
help ourselves tonight and you’ll pay them tomorrow."
“I don’t
know . . .”
A police
siren pierced the silence. Its whine grew louder. In seconds, flashing red
lights and bright headlights raced toward where they stood.
“Come on,”
George said and pulled his friend into the shadows. To his relief, the cars
sped past without slowing. Two police cars followed by a black sedan. “Hey.
They’re turning onto your street.”
“I bet
it’s the neighbors,” Jonathan said. “They’re always causing problems. Let’s go
spy out what’s happening.”
They ran
down the street, keeping to the shadows. When they arrived, the cars weren’t in
front of the neighbor’s house. They were parked in front of Jonathan’s. The
three cars created a barricade across the
front of the yard. The two police cars and the large black sedan with the round
Hawaiian Health Department seal painted on its door.
Electric
lights glared from every room of the two-story house.
The front
door flew open. Two police officers, a man in a black suit and a woman in a
nurse's uniform led out Jonathan’s cousin Alice. She was crying.
Jonathan’s
auntie Mary emerged, her face stricken white. She grabbed at the suited man’s
arm.
“Stand
back,” the man ordered and brushed her hand away. “Or you’ll be arrested for
interfering with official business.”
“Wait
here,” Jonathan whispered. “I’ll go see what's going on.”
“I’m
coming, too.”
“There’s
no point in us both getting in trouble for sneaking out.”
It didn’t
feel right, but George said, “Okay.”
Jonathan
stepped into the light.
“There he
is!” shouted one of the officers.
Two gloved
men rushed toward Jonathan and grabbed him.
Jonathan
whistled three quick chirps. George knew it was a warning for him to stay
hidden, but it seemed wrong. He should do something. He should help.
The tall
man in the dark suit herded Jonathan and Alice into the back seat of the black
car. It was like they were like criminals.
“Don’t
take them away,” Auntie Mary pleaded. “They’re fine. There’s nothing wrong with
either of them.”
They were
fine? What was she talking about? Of course they were fine. What was going on?
Jonathan
straightened. “Don’t worry, Auntie. It’s a case of mistaken identity, like in
the movies. Alice and I will be home tomorrow.”
George
knew he should do something, but what? He couldn’t think.
The car
engines hummed to life. The black sedan pulled away from the curb. The police
cars followed.
George
sunk lower into the shadows, tasting bitter bile. He’d just failed his best
friend. His blood brother. The worse part was that he knew Jonathan wasn’t
going to be fine and there was nothing he could do about it.
The lights
of the cars disappeared around a corner, the sound of their engines growing
fainter as they drove into the night.
George was
left standing alone in the dark. Alone and wondering what to do next.
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