Cemetery Club (7 page)

For Drexel Harrison, “obey” was the operative word when it came to the endless parade of delinquents he dealt with on a daily basis. At least once a day he wondered at the astounding number of mental rejects masquerading as parents. Parents who had no clue their children were drinking, smoking, even fucking when they were supposed to be in class.

And, of course, the children followed right in their parents’ cognitively deficient footsteps.

The current day’s crop was a perfect example. Two kids caught smoking behind the school, one boy who saw nothing wrong with wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with a giant marijuana leaf and three hoodlums who’d decided it would be fun to take some poor freshman and dunk his head into a toilet.

But the worst offender was, of all people, the son of the local minister. He’d been caught selling answers to a math test.

The man can preach to his flock every Sunday but can’t even get his son to obey the Ten Commandments. Typical.

Harrison waited until all seven students were giving him their undivided attention, then he launched into his standard speech.

“Listen up and listen good. For the next forty-five minutes we’ll be playing by
my
rules. That means no talking, no reading anything other than schoolwork and no sleeping. You want to screw around, do it on your own time. Anyone doesn’t follow the rules, you get another day with me. Now, get started on your homework. If you don’t have any, raise a hand and I’ll give you something to do.”

No one raised a hand. Harrison watched as they opened their schoolbooks. Unlike other detention monitors, he made it a point to remain at his desk and keep a watchful eye on his charges. He knew some teachers preferred to spend the time grading papers, catching up on reading or even standing out in the hall chatting with co-workers. But in his experience, that led to talking, passing notes and general fucking around.

None of which equated with his definition of “obey.”

Instead, he sat statue-like behind the desk, his eyes only moving when he checked his watch.

He sat stone still and relished the silence.

Cory Miles jumped when the bell announced the end of detention. Next to him, the three seniors who’d been pretending to read their history texts slammed their books shut and bolted from the room the second Harrison opened the door.

As he packed his stuff into his backpack and smiled at Marisol Flores, Cory eyed the remaining two students. He knew their names; Rocky Point wasn’t so large a school that you didn’t know all the other students in your grade. But he’d never actually had a class with either of them.

“Let’s exit this taco stand.” Marisol slapped a hand on his arm as she went by. “I’m dying for a cigarette.”

Knowing Harrison would be watching, they waited until they were across the street and officially off school grounds before lighting up. As he inhaled, Cory watched John Boyd and the preacher’s kid walking towards them.

“Hey,” John said. His sandy brown hair fell across his forehead in limp strands, as if strangled by the humid warmth of the early spring day. “You guys got an extra smoke?”

“Sure.” Cory handed him his pack of Marlboro Lights and a lighter. Boyd took one and returned the pack. Cory held it out to the preacher’s son –
Todd, Todd Randolph, that’s his name.
“You want one?”

Todd smiled, a kind of sneaky grin that filled his eyes with happy mischief. “Naw. I got something better.”

“Oh yeah?” Marisol’s eyebrows went up. “What?”

“I stole a bottle of wine from my dad’s cabinet last night and hid it in the cemetery. You guys wanna try some?”

Marisol, who Cory knew would look for any excuse not to go home, burst out laughing. “Hell yeah! Let’s go.”

The two-mile walk took them almost an hour. When they got to Gates of Heaven Cemetery, Todd led them past rows of graves and up the hill to the older section, where some of the headstones had dates going back to the seventeen hundreds. He stopped at a large mausoleum whose door hung open a few inches.

“I hid it in there.”

Marisol’s dark eyes narrowed. “This ain’t some kind of trick, is it? I mean, you’re not planning to lock us in there are you?”

Todd shook his head. “No, I hang out here all the time. My house is over that way.” He pointed west, where they could see the top of the First Church of Christ sticking up over some trees. “I come out here at night when I need to get out of my house.”

“Man, I hate being home too,” Marisol said, “but isn’t this place creepy at night?”

“Naw, it’s kind of cool. It’s quiet. You can just sit and think without anyone bothering you.” The door screeched like metal against a blackboard as he pushed it open.

Cory looked at the others and shrugged. “What the hell.” He entered the crypt, an involuntary shudder passing through him as he crossed the line from sunny afternoon to cool, damp twilight.

“Watch out for the floor.” Todd indicated a small hole in the center of the stone room where the cement had collapsed.

A large concrete casket container took up a good portion of the available space but Todd had found enough room on the other side to lay out a sleeping bag. Next to it sat an over-sized flashlight, a couple of MAD magazines and a half gallon of Mogen David Chianti.

“Fuckin’ shit. Don’t tell me you sleep here?” John asked, pointing at the sleeping bag.

“No, but I don’t like sitting on the cement. It gets real cold, especially in the winter.”

Marisol hugged herself and shivered. “It’s chilly now. Break open that wine so we can warm up.”

Cory fought down a surge of jealousy as Marisol sat down next to Todd, close enough that their knees were almost touching. He’d been crazy about her for over a year, ever since he’d seen her entering his sophomore English class. Hell, he’d only started smoking ‘cause she did; it gave him an excuse to spend time with her. That had led to eating lunch together and then hanging out after school.

The only thing he hadn’t done was get up the nerve to actually ask her out on a date.

Not wanting Todd to get all of her attention, he took a seat on her other side. John sat between him and Todd, completing the circle.

“Like my dad always says, bottoms up!” Todd hefted the jug and took a big sip, then passed it to Marisol.

“Hey, that’s not bad,” she said after swallowing her mouthful.

Cory accepted the bottle from her and brought it to his lips. The smell was strong and acidic, like super-powered grape juice. He’d tasted alcohol before, when he’d snuck sips of his father’s beer or his mother’s Saturday night whiskey sour. But the deep red wine was something different. It burned its way down his throat and started a warm feeling in his stomach.

“Wow,” he said, passing the wine to John, who took a long swig. “That’s nothing like the wine they have in church.”

“That’s ‘cause churches water the wine down.” Todd took his turn and wiped his hand across his lips, which had already taken on a purple tint. “Wine’s expensive. That’s what my dad says.”

“If people got to drink like this in church, maybe more people would go.” Marisol laughed at her own joke, sending a spray of purple droplets onto the floor.

The bottle was beginning its fourth go-round when John, who’d been quiet up until then, reached into his pocket and pulled out a joint.

“You guys wanna try something better than wine?”

*  *  *

Rocky Point, Present Day

That was the defining moment, when John lit up that joint,
Cory thought, rising from the bed and making his way to the bathroom. He felt more tired than when he’d laid down, his muscles stiff and his back aching.
We shared more than just a high.
Somehow, partying in that musty old crypt, four outcasts formed a bond. A bond Todd made official when they staggered out into the cemetery three hours later, drunk, stoned and laughing.

“We should do this again tomorrow,” Marisol said.

“We should do it every day,” Todd replied. “Just the four of us.”

“Like a club,” John said.

“The Cemetery Club.” Todd raised his hand, and everyone high-fived him.

“Christ.” Cory splashed water on his face and looked into the mirror. If he stared hard enough, he could still see a ghostly image of his sixteen-year-old self hiding beneath his current features. “Maybe we were doomed from the moment he said it,” he told his younger self.

Was that even possible? It sounded too much like fate - or a bad movie - to him, but the idea wouldn’t go away, that they’d somehow attracted the notice of a supernatural entity with their foolish high school antics.

With sleep rendered an impossible goal, Cory decided to put his past on the back burner by focusing on work. Even with Todd loose and no longer a prime suspect, there was always the chance of the police arresting him again and a good lawyer had to be prepared.

“First stop, the morgue.”

Marisol recognized the man at the desk as Cory Miles before he even turned around to face her. Something about the way he stood, the shape of his nose and chin seen from a partial profile, instantly brought back memories of the boy who’d been her best friend in high school.

The boy she’d hoped to marry someday but he’d moved away, leaving her with no one but the assholes who only wanted to get into her pants.

“Cory?” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud and had to fight the urge to duck into an office before he looked at her.

“Marisol?”

Holy shit, it really is him!
She stood frozen as a broad smile bloomed on his face and he started towards her
. Cory Miles is here, right here.
Aware she must look totally disheveled after a ten-hour shift in the lab, her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment and the moisture magically evaporated from her tongue, leaving her with an acute case of cotton mouth.

Cory stopped a few feet away, his hands held partially out, as if he wasn’t sure if he should hug her or shake her hand. The fact that he looked like a man imitating the classic Virgin Mary benediction pose made her want to laugh, which in turn broke the spell holding her immobile. She grasped his hands in hers and stepped forward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I can’t believe you’re here! What are you doing in town? Wait; what the hell are you doing in the morgue?”

“It’s a long story,” he said, still smiling and staring at her. “Can you grab a cup of coffee?

Marisol hated to divert her eyes away from him, as if doing so might reveal that his appearance was just a hallucination. But she chanced a quick look at her watch, realizing in the process they were still holding hands.

“My shift ends in fifteen minutes.” She reluctantly relinquished her grip. Did it seem as if he was slow in letting go as well? “Meet me in the lobby and we’ll go to the diner.”

“Hogan's?”

“Of course.”

“That sounds great.”

He stood there smiling at her and she wondered if her own grin looked as goofy. She considered giving him another kiss but just then the lab door opened and Randy, another lab tech, stuck his head out.

“Hey Marisol, I can’t find the sample vials for the micro centrifuge. Do you know where they are?”

Cory took a step backwards. “I’ll let you get back to work. See you in fifteen.”

Before she could say anything, he turned and walked down the hall towards the elevator.

“Marisol?”

She sighed. “I’m coming Randy. Hold your horses.”

I still can’t believe I’m sitting with Cory Miles again.
The two of them had instinctively taken the same booth in the back corner that they’d always tried to get when they were in high school.
How many nights did we sit here, me desperate to avoid going home, Cory bored with life in general and just looking for something to do?

In the bright lights of the diner she saw he hadn’t changed all that much since high school. His hairline had receded a bit and he had a few lines around his dark brown eyes but he’d managed to stay in shape. He’d been tall when they were juniors, almost six feet, but it looked like he’d only added an inch or two since then.

As they regarded each other over their coffee cups, she wondered if his assessment of her was as favorable. She certainly didn’t look the same as when he’d known her. A two-cup increase in her bra size and an almost overnight rounding of her ass had changed her figure from model-thin to Playboy curvy during senior year, one of the main reasons she’d become so popular with the boys after being virtually invisible the year before.

A strict diet, lots of exercise and an ex-husband who belittled her whenever she gained weight had helped her keep the pounds off in the years since high school, but it was still a never-ending struggle.

“I can’t believe we’re sitting here,” Cory said, breaking the silence. He gestured at the booths and patrons around them. “Shit. I can’t believe the diner’s still here.”

“You mean you can’t believe
I’m
still here.” Marisol sipped her coffee and smiled to let him know she wasn’t insulted.

He nodded. “That too. You always hated this town. I figured you’d be gone before the ink on your diploma was dry.”

She shrugged. “You know how it is. The classic story. Girl falls for wrong guy. Girl gets married. Guy abuses girl. Girl takes fifteen years to get her shit together and leave him.” She stopped, aware of the bitterness creeping into her voice.

Am I mad at myself or at Cory for leaving me behind?

Cory looked down at his cup. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. After you moved, I...well, I guess you could say I blossomed.” She gave her boobs a quick pat and he laughed. “I started getting attention from all the guys. I was too stupid to realize they only wanted my body.”

“Who was it?”

“Who
wasn’t
it? People always thought of me as a poor spic from the Lowlands. By the middle of senior year I was the slutty poor spic from the Lowlands. Except, I didn't know it. I thought I was popular ‘cause I had a date every weekend.”