APRIL 12th CHALLENGE

UNLIKELY PLACES

by Linda S Barth

And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you, because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.                              

~ Roald Dahl

She should have known better. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d just joined the tunnel community yesterday. She’d been living here for nearly six years, more than long enough to know what kind of behavior would fly and what kind would earn you a load of trouble. You had to be careful, even around people you were supposed to trust. She’d learned that the hard way a long time ago. But years of living here had helped her reject a way of life that had been forced upon her back in those nightmare days, and she’d begun to let down her guard.

Jamie’s heavy sigh disturbed the dust shimmering in the stale air of the old storage chamber. Those other times, she’d been a victim, a defenseless little girl with no choices. It was blessedly different here, but now she’d messed up, and, yeah, she had no one to blame but herself. And maybe Mouse. But he was her friend, and she could easily forgive him. What she couldn’t forgive was her own stupidity.

Father had been in an almighty snit over Mouse’s latest “great idea”. And it really was a good one! The tunnel world could use a better system for moving food items and other donated goods more efficiently from their pickup points to the chambers where they’d actually be used. Mouse had it all figured out, but as usual, there were complications.

And even though she didn’t want to admit it, Father had a point. Or three or four. Mouse shouldn’t have stolen anything from a construction site – again – especially one with such good security. She shuddered. How could they have overlooked the possibility of cameras? If someone had seen her, had somehow recognized her…Not that anyone still would be looking for her after all these years, but you never know…

She shook her head hard. She couldn’t think about that now. But Mouse – he hadn’t thought either. He’d started building and installing his apparatus without even asking the Council to consider, let alone approve, the plan. And then he’d mouthed off at Father when he was told to dismantle it immediately. And then – Jamie sighed again.  

When Father had paused for breath, it had seemed like the right thing to do, jumping in to defend Mouse and inadvertently revealing her own involvement as lookout in the finding and taking – okay, stealing — incident. Until several seconds later when it clearly wasn’t. She’d winced but hadn’t backed away. She’d take the punishment she deserved for her actions. She just hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much.

But it had hurt, terribly so. Just not the way she’d imagined.

She could still hear Father as if he were standing next to her right now amidst the clutter. “I’m terribly disappointed, young lady. I have come to expect so much more from you, certainly not the level of disrespect you have shown.” The slow shake of his head and the look in his eyes had cut her deeply. “You’re nearly thirteen, and that’s old enough to understand how your blatant disregard for our rules endangers the entire community. I want you to think hard about what you’ve done and how you intend to make certain it never happens again.”  

She had done exactly as he’d said, and then approached him later, not in an attempt to persuade him to change his mind about her, but with the unshakable need to make him understand. She had meant no disrespect; she had been trying to help, to stand up for her friend; and wasn’t that something to find pride in rather than disappointment?

Of course, he’d already known all that and he told her so. He’d spoken gently and patiently, and somehow that hurt even more than if she’d been severely punished. For Father, the incident now was over; he could let it go, but Jamie couldn’t. She had to prove to him she wasn’t a thoughtless, selfish child, to show that she understood, that she could do better. But how?

She’d turned to Vincent, sharing the story without shedding any tears, even though her eyes burned and her throat ached from holding them back. When he’d suggested finding a way to show Father she took her responsibilities as a member of the community seriously, she had immediately remembered a recent dinnertime when the tunnel leader had complained about the need for maintaining the storage chambers. Evidently, much-needed space was being wasted by piles of unwanted and long-forgotten items, all of which needed to be discarded or put to better use.      

With a grimy hand, Jamie pushed a straggle of hair back from her face and surveyed the chamber from where she stood at its center. It looked three times bigger than when she’d maneuvered her way into the clutter, armed with rags and determination, five hours earlier. It had been exhausting, but the whole place was now as clean and organized as it was ever going to be, all except for one last cardboard box.

She knelt and peeled back the crackle of dried-out tape that barely held its battered sides together. Eager to finish so that she could show Father what she had done, she rifled through the contents. Old comic books, a torn t-shirt, binoculars with one cracked lens, tattered maps of the world, a rusty pocketknife. She examined the grimy flaps of the box, hoping to find its owner’s name so she could either get permission to discard all this worthless junk or return it to someone who – unlikely as it seemed – might actually want it.

There it was, a half-hidden name printed in faded letters. She read it aloud, wondering who it could possibly be, certainly no one she’d ever heard of before. “Devin.”

The stuff in the box was so old, it must have belonged to someone who’d moved out of the tunnels a long time ago and probably didn’t even remember he – or she – had left it behind. Still, it wasn’t within her rights to just toss it all, as much as she’d like to, so she stood and started shoving it toward a corner of the chamber where there was just enough room left to abandon it once again.

The movement of the box along the uneven floor jostled its contents. The long-forgotten secrets within the decaying collection shifted and slid, revealing something so small that Jamie had initially overlooked it. Carefully, she pulled out a tattered Polaroid print protruding from the pages of a book, one of those black and white journals schoolkids often used. There on its cover was the same name – Devin – this time printed in large, black letters, with the warning “Private – Keep out!” inscribed just below. Jamie smiled. That was something she’d write, too, if she kept a private journal.

Setting the book aside, she squinted at the photograph, its image time-faded and indistinct in the dusty light — three grinning little boys, arms around each other as they perched on a couch with jack-o-lantern decorated shopping bags at their feet. She held the photo closer to her eyes. Okay, the one in the overalls and cowboy hat was definitely her pal Winslow; his smile hadn’t changed at all over the years. The dark-haired boy in pirate gear wedged in the middle of the trio was a stranger to her – maybe Devin? – and the third was clearly a pint-sized Vincent brandishing a scepter perilously close to the decorated paper crown atop his wavy hair.

No doubt when the photo had been taken, but where – and how?

Jamie flipped the print over, hoping to find that someone had left behind a comment or inscription, but it was blank except for a couple of dirty fingerprints. If there were answers to be found, she’d have to look elsewhere.

She examined the image more closely. It was clearly taken somewhere Above, but not in a place she’d ever been. The couch looked expensive and behind it there was a big fireplace, flanked by shelves and shelves of books. A library? No, that didn’t make sense. Must be someone’s house, someone rich. But how did those boys end up there?

Her gaze was drawn again to their faces, and she grinned back at them. Their joyous energy was heartwarming and irresistible, and she wanted, somehow she needed, to know more.

She reached for the journal, then hesitated, its bold warning seeming to pulsate in the dusky light. Maybe she shouldn’t pry into someone else’s business like this. She sure wouldn’t like it if some random person read her private thoughts. But the little faces in the photo seemed to keep smiling right at her, welcoming her in, and what if maybe someone like Winslow or Vincent would like to have the photo? Maybe if she looked in the journal, she’d figure out who the picture belonged to. And it wasn’t as if she could ask Devin for permission. She didn’t even know who he was!

Before she could convince herself not to, Jamie opened the journal. She wouldn’t read all of it, really she wouldn’t, so she flipped through it quickly, looking for an entry for October 31.  Within moments, she found it, several lines scrawled on a page in a messier hand than the careful elementary school printing she had glimpsed while fanning though the rest.

October 31, 1961

I have to write this fast because I’m suposed to be asleep but I’m two exsited!! To night Winslow and Vincent and I got to go to a Halloween party at Dr. Peter’s house! It was vary vary cool!! We played games and ate all kinds of snacks but the best thing was going trickortreating with Susan and her Mom!!! We got a ton of candy!! Each!! Next year we’re gonna do it again and every year forever and ever. We made a deal – its gonna be our annieversary and we will always sellabrate it together as long as we live. I’m hiding this pichur in my journal so Father won’t see it and have a cow. Its our secret! We are suposed to never have pichurs of Vincent but one cant hurt right espechally if no one else sees it. Ha ha. Maybee we can take another pichur some time.  I wish it was all ready next year!!!

Jamie smiled as she closed the journal, determined to respect the writer’s demands for privacy even though she was very tempted to read further. Had they gotten to do it all again the year after, had they kept celebrating their anniversary and for how long? She’d have to ask Winslow and Vincent about it. And she’d be sure to explain that she hadn’t meant to pry into their secrets. But she really wanted to hear more about the fun they’d had as children. It must have been great, the adventures the three of them had enjoyed together.

She traced a dusty finger along the letters of the unknown child’s name. He sounded like someone she would enjoy knowing. But what had happened to him? Where was he now? She frowned and bit her lip. Surely no one would leave this place – this sanctuary, one of those important words she’d just learned in a book Vincent gave her – if they’d had any other choice. She certainly wouldn’t!

So, did that mean something bad had happened to Devin? Something so bad that no one down here ever talked about it? Clearly, he’d been happy once, but no one had to tell her that happiness didn’t always last.

What if – she shuddered – what if he’d died and talking about him with Winslow and Vincent would only cause them pain? What if it was all supposed to be a big secret? What if…what if…what if…

She gazed unseeing into the shadows of the chamber, not looking for answers, just trying to find a way to accept the ones she already knew.

Feeling the last bit of pleasurable warmth seep from her heart, she carefully placed the journal and photo back into the cardboard box and resecured the lid as best she could, before sliding it into its niche in the storage room. She rose to her feet and walked to the chamber entrance, turning back for just a few moments to survey what she had done. She would show her work to Father and hope that once again he would understand everything she would try to tell him, even if she couldn’t always find all the right words.

But she wouldn’t mention a thing to anyone about Devin, at least not now. She knew how to keep secrets, and she would keep his for as long as she had to, even if it was forever.

UNLIKELY PLACES

by Linda S Barth

And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you, because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.        ~ Roald Dahl

She should have known better. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d just joined the tunnel community yesterday. She’d been living here for nearly six years, more than long enough to know what kind of behavior would fly and what kind would earn you a load of trouble. You had to be careful, even around people you were supposed to trust. She’d learned that the hard way a long time ago. But years of living here had helped her reject a way of life that had been forced upon her back in those nightmare days, and she’d begun to let down her guard.

Jamie’s heavy sigh disturbed the dust shimmering in the stale air of the old storage chamber. Those other times, she’d been a victim, a defenseless little girl with no choices. It was blessedly different here, but now she’d messed up, and, yeah, she had no one to blame but herself. And maybe Mouse. But he was her friend, and she could easily forgive him. What she couldn’t forgive was her own stupidity.

Father had been in an almighty snit over Mouse’s latest “great idea”. And it really was a good one! The tunnel world could use a better system for moving food items and other donated goods more efficiently from their pickup points to the chambers where they’d actually be used. Mouse had it all figured out, but as usual, there were complications.

And even though she didn’t want to admit it, Father had a point. Or three or four. Mouse shouldn’t have stolen anything from a construction site – again – especially one with such good security. She shuddered. How could they have overlooked the possibility of cameras? If someone had seen her, had somehow recognized her…Not that anyone still would be looking for her after all these years, but you never know…

She shook her head hard. She couldn’t think about that now. But Mouse – he hadn’t thought either. He’d started building and installing his apparatus without even asking the Council to consider, let alone approve, the plan. And then he’d mouthed off at Father when he was told to dismantle it immediately. And then – Jamie sighed again.

When Father had paused for breath, it had seemed like the right thing to do, jumping in to defend Mouse and inadvertently revealing her own involvement as lookout in the finding and taking – okay, stealing — incident. Until several seconds later when it clearly wasn’t. She’d winced but hadn’t backed away. She’d take the punishment she deserved for her actions. She just hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much.

But it had hurt, terribly so. Just not the way she’d imagined.

She could still hear Father as if he were standing next to her right now amidst the clutter. “I’m terribly disappointed, young lady. I have come to expect so much more from you, certainly not the level of disrespect you have shown.” The slow shake of his head and the look in his eyes had cut her deeply. “You’re nearly thirteen, and that’s old enough to understand how your blatant disregard for our rules endangers the entire community. I want you to think hard about what you’ve done and how you intend to make certain it never happens again.”

She had done exactly as he’d said, and then approached him later, not in an attempt to persuade him to change his mind about her, but with the unshakable need to make him understand. She had meant no disrespect; she had been trying to help, to stand up for her friend; and wasn’t that something to find pride in rather than disappointment?

Of course, he’d already known all that and he told her so. He’d spoken gently and patiently, and somehow that hurt even more than if she’d been severely punished. For Father, the incident now was over; he could let it go, but Jamie couldn’t. She had to prove to him she wasn’t a thoughtless, selfish child, to show that she understood, that she could do better. But how?

She’d turned to Vincent, sharing the story without shedding any tears, even though her eyes burned and her throat ached from holding them back. When he’d suggested finding a way to show Father she took her responsibilities as a member of the community seriously, she had immediately remembered a recent dinnertime when the tunnel leader had complained about the need for maintaining the storage chambers. Evidently, much-needed space was being wasted by piles of unwanted and long-forgotten items, all of which needed to be discarded or put to better use.

With a grimy hand, Jamie pushed a straggle of hair back from her face and surveyed the chamber from where she stood at its center. It looked three times bigger than when she’d maneuvered her way into the clutter, armed with rags and determination, five hours earlier. It had been exhausting, but the whole place was now as clean and organized as it was ever going to be, all except for one last cardboard box.

She knelt and peeled back the crackle of dried-out tape that barely held its battered sides together. Eager to finish so that she could show Father what she had done, she rifled through the contents. Old comic books, a torn t-shirt, binoculars with one cracked lens, tattered maps of the world, a rusty pocketknife. She examined the grimy flaps of the box, hoping to find its owner’s name so she could either get permission to discard all this worthless junk or return it to someone who – unlikely as it seemed – might actually want it.

There it was, a half-hidden name printed in faded letters. She read it aloud, wondering who it could possibly be, certainly no one she’d ever heard of before. “Devin.”

The stuff in the box was so old, it must have belonged to someone who’d moved out of the tunnels a long time ago and probably didn’t even remember he – or she – had left it behind. Still, it wasn’t within her rights to just toss it all, as much as she’d like to, so she stood and started shoving it toward a corner of the chamber where there was just enough room left to abandon it once again.

The movement of the box along the uneven floor jostled its contents. The long-forgotten secrets within the decaying collection shifted and slid, revealing something so small that Jamie had initially overlooked it. Carefully, she pulled out a tattered Polaroid print protruding from the pages of a book, one of those black and white journals schoolkids often used. There on its cover was the same name – Devin – this time printed in large, black letters, with the warning “Private – Keep out!” inscribed just below. Jamie smiled. That was something she’d write, too, if she kept a private journal.

Setting the book aside, she squinted at the photograph, its image time-faded and indistinct in the dusty light — three grinning little boys, arms around each other as they perched on a couch with jack-o-lantern decorated shopping bags at their feet. She held the photo closer to her eyes. Okay, the one in the overalls and cowboy hat was definitely her pal Winslow; his smile hadn’t changed at all over the years. The dark-haired boy in pirate gear wedged in the middle of the trio was a stranger to her – maybe Devin? – and the third was clearly a pint-sized Vincent brandishing a scepter perilously close to the decorated paper crown atop his wavy hair.

No doubt when the photo had been taken, but where – and how?

Jamie flipped the print over, hoping to find that someone had left behind a comment or inscription, but it was blank except for a couple of dirty fingerprints. If there were answers to be found, she’d have to look elsewhere.

She examined the image more closely. It was clearly taken somewhere Above, but not in a place she’d ever been. The couch looked expensive and behind it there was a big fireplace, flanked by shelves and shelves of books. A library? No, that didn’t make sense. Must be someone’s house, someone rich. But how did those boys end up there?

Her gaze was drawn again to their faces, and she grinned back at them. Their joyous energy was heartwarming and irresistible, and she wanted, somehow she needed, to know more.

She reached for the journal, then hesitated, its bold warning seeming to pulsate in the dusky light. Maybe she shouldn’t pry into someone else’s business like this. She sure wouldn’t like it if some random person read her private thoughts. But the little faces in the photo seemed to keep smiling right at her, welcoming her in, and what if maybe someone like Winslow or Vincent would like to have the photo? Maybe if she looked in the journal, she’d figure out who the picture belonged to. And it wasn’t as if she could ask Devin for permission. She didn’t even know who he was!

Before she could convince herself not to, Jamie opened the journal. She wouldn’t read all of it, really she wouldn’t, so she flipped through it quickly, looking for an entry for October 31.  Within moments, she found it, several lines scrawled on a page in a messier hand than the careful elementary school printing she had glimpsed while fanning though the rest.

October 31, 1961

I have to write this fast because I’m suposed to be asleep but I’m two exsited!! To night Winslow and Vincent and I got to go to a Halloween party at Dr. Peter’s house! It was vary vary cool!! We played games and ate all kinds of snacks but the best thing was going trickortreating with Susan and her Mom!!! We got a ton of candy!! Each!! Next year we’re gonna do it again and every year forever and ever. We made a deal – its gonna be our annieversary and we will always sellabrate it together as long as we live. I’m hiding this pichur in my journal so Father won’t see it and have a cow. Its our secret! We are suposed to never have pichurs of Vincent but one cant hurt right espechally if no one else sees it. Ha ha. Maybee we can take another pichur some time.  I wish it was all ready next year!!!

Jamie smiled as she closed the journal, determined to respect the writer’s demands for privacy even though she was very tempted to read further. Had they gotten to do it all again the year after, had they kept celebrating their anniversary and for how long? She’d have to ask Winslow and Vincent about it. And she’d be sure to explain that she hadn’t meant to pry into their secrets. But she really wanted to hear more about the fun they’d had as children. It must have been great, the adventures the three of them had enjoyed together.

She traced a dusty finger along the letters of the unknown child’s name. He sounded like someone she would enjoy knowing. But what had happened to him? Where was he now? She frowned and bit her lip. Surely no one would leave this place – this sanctuary, one of those important words she’d just learned in a book Vincent gave her – if they’d had any other choice. She certainly wouldn’t!

So, did that mean something bad had happened to Devin? Something so bad that no one down here ever talked about it? Clearly, he’d been happy once, but no one had to tell her that happiness didn’t always last.

What if – she shuddered – what if he’d died and talking about him with Winslow and Vincent would only cause them pain? What if it was all supposed to be a big secret? What if…what if…what if…

She gazed unseeing into the shadows of the chamber, not looking for answers, just trying to find a way to accept the ones she already knew.

Feeling the last bit of pleasurable warmth seep from her heart, she carefully placed the journal and photo back into the cardboard box and resecured the lid as best she could, before sliding it into its niche in the storage room. She rose to her feet and walked to the chamber entrance, turning back for just a few moments to survey what she had done. She would show her work to Father and hope that once again he would understand everything she would try to tell him, even if she couldn’t always find all the right words.

But she wouldn’t mention a thing to anyone about Devin, at least not now. She knew how to keep secrets, and she would keep his for as long as she had to, even if it was forever.