The Scroll 33

Of course the last post wasn't the end of the book!  What kind of writer do you think I am--one that at the end of a book introduces but doesn't explain anything about new characters that may in some way influence the course of the rest of the series?  Well, maybe a little, but not as much as if I ended the book at the end of the last post.

We're now going to be seeing how Gray's leaving affects those he left behind.  It's a little depressing, but don't worry.  The depressing bits will only last for a post or two.  Then the action will begin again!

*          *          *

            Savannah sat in the living room drafting her book report.  It was titled, “How Ancient Mythology Helped Shape Middle Earth.”  Her teacher didn’t consider fantasy books appropriate sources for book reports, so Savannah’s goal was to make as scholarly a report as possible to change her mind.  She nibbled on the end of her pencil, scouring her mind for a perfect word.

            The front door opened, and Savannah peeked up over the edge of her paper.  Leslie stood in the doorway, staring off into space.  She tugged at her jacket sleeve.  “Hey!” Savannah said.  “It’s after dark.  How long was you and Gray’s trip supposed to be?  You know, the one that was a smokescreen for whatever you were doing.  And where’s Gray anyway?”

            Leslie stared straight ahead.  “He’s gone,” she said in a flat voice.

            “What?” asked Savannah.  “What do you mean gone?”

            Leslie didn’t answer.  Tears welled in her eyes and trickled silently down her face.

            Fear thrilled through Savannah.  She jumped up and rushed over to Leslie.  “What happened?  Tell me.  Leslie, what happened?”

            Mr. Matheson, hearing Savannah’s cries, rushed into the living room.  “Savannah, what is it?”

            Savannah turned to her dad, her eyes wide with fear.  “Dad, something happened to Gray.”

            “What?” Mr. Matheson said.  He looked at Leslie.  “What happened, Leslie?”

Leslie’s breathing became ragged, and she trembled from trying not to cry.  Mr. Matheson held out his arms, and she stumbled into his embrace.  She cried silently; the only sound that escaped her was her gasps of breath.

            “Leslie,” Mr. Matheson said gently, stroking her head, “sweetie, can you tell me what happened?”

            Gradually, Leslie calmed down.  She kept her head buried in her father’s shoulder as she spoke.  “Gray almost died.  We saved him, and—and then he left.  He went home.”

            Savannah grabbed the sleeve of Leslie’s jacket.  “He went home?  You mean home-home, not here-home, don’t you?”

            Leslie nodded.

            “Oh, Leslie,” Mr. Matheson said.  He kept his voice calm, but Savannah saw something creep into his eyes.  Sorrow and something more—failure?  “You were growing close to Gray, weren’t you?”

            He gently pushed away from Leslie.  “I’m going to have to make a couple of calls.  How did Gray almost die?”

            Leslie avoided Mr. Matheson’s eyes.  Savannah tensed.  Was she going to give away all their secrets?  “He—he nearly ran in front of a car, I guess.”

            Savannah winced at the lie.  It was so transparent.  But Mr. Matheson was too preoccupied by his own thoughts to notice.  He pushed a strand of hair behind Leslie’s ear.  “I’m so sorry, Leslie.  Do you want to talk about it?”

            Leslie shook her head.  “No,” she said in a flat tone, “I’m okay.  Can I go to my room?”

            “Of course,” said Mr. Matheson.

            Like a ghost, Leslie slipped past Mr. Matheson and Savannah and walked upstairs.  Savannah and Mr. Matheson stood still until they heard Leslie’s bedroom door close.  Silently, Mr. Matheson closed the front door.  Without looking at her, Mr. Matheson said, “Savannah, why don’t you head to your room too?  I’ve got some private calls to make.”

            Without waiting to see if Savannah complied, Mr. Matheson walked into the kitchen.  She heard him go into the mudroom and close the door behind him.  After a brief moment’s hesitation, Savannah tiptoed to the mudroom door and sat down next to the door.  She could just make out her dad’s voice?”

            “Hello, Ms. Castillo?  You said I could call if I needed anything?  Well, something’s happened.  Gray ran away.”

            There was silence, and Savannah leaned closer to the door.  “No, I don’t know what happened.  He was with my daughter Leslie.  She’s hiding something from me.  She’s a wreck—I think they must’ve had a fight.  Why—why did he run away?”

            Mr. Matheson’s voice broke.  “I tried everything I could think of.  I gave him space, but I tried to befriend him and be there so he could talk to me.  I gave him what he needed; I respected him.  He never opened up to me, but I thought it was okay because he was getting along well with my girls.  I thought it would just take time.  What did I do wrong?”

            Savannah’s spirits sank as she listened to her father speak.  We should have told him, she realized.  He’s blaming himself for Gray leaving, and Leslie and I knew he’d be leaving some day.  Or I figured it out, at least.

            Mr. Matheson’s phone conversation went on for a couple more minutes before there was silence on the other side of the mudroom door.  Savannah scrambled to get out of the kitchen, but it was too late.  The door opened with Mr. Matheson holding the doorknob, looking haggard and exhausted.  Savannah stopped.  There was no point in hiding from him.

            “You heard?” asked Mr. Matheson.

            Savannah nodded.  She blurted out, “But it wasn’t your fault.  Gray just needed to go home.”

            Mr. Matheson smiled weakly.  “Thanks, Savannah.  But I was under the impression that he didn’t have a home and that this was his home.”

            Without another word Mr. Matheson went upstairs and retreated to his bedroom.

            Anger towards Gray flooded Savannah.  You selfish boy.  Why couldn’t you let Dad be your friend?  And why didn’t you tell us you were leaving as soon as your mission was over?

            But what was done was done.  Gray was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.  With a sigh, Savannah left her book report on the coffee table and climbed the stairs.  She couldn’t write any more today anyway.

            Savannah stopped outside of Leslie’s bedroom door.  She hesitated, then knocked.  There was no answer.  Ignoring the silence, Savannah pushed open the door.

            Leslie was sitting on her bed looking out the window.  “What do you want?” she asked sullenly.

            “Don’t waste your time moping over that jerk,” Savannah said harshly.  She crossed her arms.

            “But he isn’t a jerk,” said Leslie.  “He’s just trying to save his people.  He had to leave.  I know that.”

            “Then why are you moping?”

            Leslie turned her head so that she almost faced Savannah.  “Gray almost died because of me.  If I hadn’t been so stubborn about meeting at the mall, if I had let Professor Brown name the time and place, then he wouldn’t have come so close to dying.  It was terrible.  He was in so much pain.”

            “But that’s over now, he’s not in pain, and he’s not going to die,” said Savannah.

            “But still…” said Leslie.

            Savannah sighed.  Gray almost dying isn’t the problem, is it? She thought.  You have a crush on him, maybe more than a crush, and you can’t even see it.

            Leslie turned back towards the window.  There was no way Savannah would get her to say anything else.  She left the room, closing the door behind her.