F. Wilson - Secret Circles

Jack thought he knew: It left with her brother.

Weezy was pretty much Jack‟s best friend now, and Kate had been his best friend growing up.

But from age eight or nine until twelve, Jack and Tony Vivino had been near inseparable.

Then Tony died.

It started with a broken leg from just hopping over a tree trunk. No way that little jump should have broken his leg. Something was wrong.

Very wrong. He had some sort of bone cancer that had already spread through his system. They cut off his leg, filled him with drugs that made his hair fall out, and then he died anyway. Jack had cried like a baby. He went to the funeral and hadn‟t been back to the Vivinos‟ since. Hadn‟t seen any of them until last month when Mrs. Vivino and Sally, who‟d started kindergarten this year, began showing up at the school bus stop.

He remembered the old days when he‟d tickle her just to see that smile. Jack had recovered from Tony‟s death. It didn‟t look like Sally had.

“Mister Vivino‟s running for freeholder,” Mom said with a smile of her own.

People told Jack he had the same hair and eyes as his mother. She used to be thin but had added pounds the past few years. Dad didn‟t seem to mind but she was always complaining about it.

Her smile looked forced and Jack could guess why: no word on Cody Bockman.

“That‟s great,” Jack said to Mr. Vivino. “Can I ask a dumb question?”

He grinned. “The only dumb question is the one that doesn‟t get asked.”

“Okay. What‟s a freeholder do?”

Mr. Vivino laughed. “They run the county. Mister Haskins‟s unfortunate death left a gap I‟m ready to fill.”

The mention of Mr. Haskins changed the mood in the room and triggered uneasy memories.

He‟d been one of the Lodge members who‟d died so mysteriously last month. No one could say for sure whether he‟d been murdered, but it was suspected. Stuff like that just didn‟t happen around here.

Mr. Vivino cleared his throat. “His term was about to expire this year so I‟m running to take his place. I‟m here to ask your folks for their support.”

“And you‟ve got it, Al,” Jack‟s father said, rising from his chair and extending his hand.

No surprise there. His father and Mr. Vivino—his first name was Aldo but everyone called him A1—were both members of the local Veterans of Foreign Wars post. Dad‟s war had been in Korea. Tony‟s father was a Vietnam vet like Walt. They‟d both come back in one piece—at least physically—but Mr. Vivino worked for an engineering firm in Cherry Hill while Walt … well, Walt spent his time being Weird Walt.

Jack‟s dad was trim, with blue eyes and thinning hair. He held his steel-rimmed reading glasses in his free hand. Jack realized the rising, the handshake, and the promise of support were a subtle heave-ho. Dad was probably hungry.

“Mine too,” Mom said.

Jack could tell she wanted to get dinner on the table.

Thankfully Mr. Vivino picked up on it.

“Tom and Jane, I appreciate that.” He shook Mom‟s hand. “I‟d be honored if you‟d allow me to put a sign up on your lawn.”

“Sure,” Dad said. “Be our guest.”

Jack could almost hear him thinking, Anything. Justgo

Mr. Vivino shook Jack‟s hand again, then led Sally out by the hand. “Bye, Sally.”

Sally looked up and gave him a little wave as she followed her father out. Still no smile.

Jack wished he knew a way to change that. He wished something else …

“I wish I could vote,” he said as he followed his folks to the kitchen.

“So you could vote for Al?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“‟Cause he‟s Tony‟s father.”

Or should that be was Tony‟s father? he wondered.

He guessed he‟d always be Tony‟s father.

“I guess that‟s as good a reason as any to vote for a freeholder. There‟s five of them, so any bad apple that happens to land in that barrel can‟t do much damage.”

That brought Jack up short.

“You think he‟s a bad apple?”

Dad laughed. “Not at all. No, I‟m just saying the freeholder system tends to keep things running smoothly. I think Al will be a good addition.”

“Why?”

“Well, partly because of Tony. He was a good kid, and I think that says something about his father.”

Jack felt his throat constrict. He hadn‟t thought about Tony in a long time.

He remembered the long summer days they‟d spent in the Vivinos‟ backyard pool, the two of them cannon balling while an ever-smiling Sally paddled around in her floater vest.

Good times.

Then he remembered the wake and seeing Tony in his coffin looking like a shrunken wax doll.

“You miss him, don‟t you,” Dad said.

Jack nodded, unable to speak around the sudden lump in his throat.

Yeah, he missed Tony. Until this moment he hadn‟t realized how much.

12

That night he dreamed of Tony‟s wake.

Lightning strobed the sky as he ran through the rain

to the front door of the funeral home.

Inside, he pushed through a crowd of adults in dark suits and dresses. They were drinking and talking and laughing while waitresses passed among them with trays of canapés.

What‟s going on? he thought. This isn‟t a party. A kid is dead, robbed of his entire life. How can you be happy? How can you laugh?

Worse than that, they were ignoring Tony.

Jack wove through them until he came within sight of the coffin. The lights flickered as the storm lit and rattled the windows. He stopped, afraid to move closer. But he forced one foot in front of the other until he was standing by the kneeler before the coffin.

The top was open and Tony lay within, dressed in his Little League uniform with his first baseman‟s glove and a ball tucked in beside him. He‟d loved baseball.

Another flash and the lights went out. The people behind Jack went on talking and laughing as if nothing had happened. But Jack stood rooted to the spot, unable to speak or move.

Still another lightning flash, but this one kept flickering, revealing Tony sitting up in the coffin and staring at him with pitch-black eyes.

“Save them, Jack. I can’t do it, so you’ve gotta. Save them.”

And then the lights came back on, but not in the funeral home—

—in Jack‟s bedroom.

He blinked up at his mother and father standing over his bed.

“What? Where?”

“That must have been one hell of a nightmare,” his father said.

“Nightmare?”

“Screaming like a banshee.”

“Are you okay?” his mother said, concern large on her face. “You sounded so frightened.”

“I guess I was. Tony was in the dream.”

Dad nodded. “No stretch as to why you were dreaming about him.”

Yeah. Of course. Mr. Vivino‟s visit. But what had Tony meant?

“Save them, Jack. I can’t do it, so you’ve gotta. Save them.”

Save whom?

SUNDAY

1

Jack wheeled his bike past the VIVINO FOR FREEHOLDER sign stuck in his front lawn

and cruised over to North Franklin. He had no destination in mind, just wanted out of the house for a while before it started raining again. It had rained during the night, so no sense in trying to cut the sodden mess that the lawns would be. He simply rode and thought about his dream last night and the whereabouts of the little black pyramid and what the canvas boss had said about a missing kid in Michigan.

As he approached Quakerton Road, he wondered if Cody had been found. Mom hadn‟t

mentioned him. He supposed someone would have called her, but you never knew. Cody‟s folks might be so happy to have him back they hadn‟t got around to spreading the word.