Chapter 5 - A Meeting

Did Cela close the door? And we meet Luke.

Cela leaned heavily on her desk, her face inelegantly propped on her hand. She twirled a pen back and forth over her notebook, periodically glancing up at her teacher: a small, bespectacled old woman with her heavily permed short hair an unnatural shade of pink, apparently intended to be a youthful strawberry blonde. Cela was bored, and very much uninterested in finding out what x was supposed to be in that dauntingly long equation, scrawled on the board in an otherwise enviable script.

It’s a shame they don’t do penmanship classes anymore. I’d much rather be in one of those than be here. Sighing, Cela began writing bits of what the teacher was saying, concentrating more on making precise curlicues and fancy flourishes than what the notes were implying.

“Cela?”

Cela’s head jerked up with a start. The members of the class that weren’t as zoned out as she had been were looking at her.

“Would you come work this problem on the board?” the old woman was asking in her high, reedy voice.

Cela groaned inwardly and obliged, getting up and taking the dry erase marker from the tiny woman and trying to ignore both the overwhelming scent of lavender and how easily she could see over the shrunken teacher’s pink perm.

After what seemed like a painfully long period of time, the equation was completed, Cela was reseated and promptly went back to daydreaming. When they were released for lunch, Cela gathered her purse and edged out of the classroom into the crush of students making their way to the cafeteria. She had to force herself to remember to breathe when the pack slowed nearly to a standstill at the doors to the dining hall. She knew, at least by sight, these faces whose attached shoulders and limbs and torsos were nearly smashed against hers, but they were still strangers, and stifling.

Breath came easier to her once she was through the entryway and into the massive dining area, as people and bodies dispersed to their habitual locations at long tables and benches. Once through the line, carrying a tray loaded with a plastic-looking soyburger, tater tots and some oily mixed vegetables, Cela took her usual seat at the edge of the group that was the closest to friends she had. She was acknowledged by a few of them as she sat and then conversation resumed, good friends sharing accounts of various bits of conversations, T.V. shows, gossip, and silliness. Cela laughed and cheered and responded appropriately throughout the discussion, but mostly she watched, and envied the girls whose body language spoke of confidence and companionship with those around them; leaning in close with obvious interest, a touch of the hand on a shoulder, or a face, or an arm… animated faces gleaming with happiness and mischief. Cela yearned to be a part of that, to have those eager eyes fixed on hers as she shared some interesting tidbit about this or that, but she could never quite figure out what to say. Besides, what could she possibly offer to the conversation aside from some joyous moment with Sam – a relationship that the vast majority of people could never understand – or maybe yet another fight she’d had with her mother over some silly plant? Or, if she really felt like looking insane, she could bring up that door in the woods, and the grasslands on the other side.

And so she simply watched.

Cela laughed again at one of the girls, and as she did, her eyes roved around the room, and caught on another set of eyes. They belonged to a tall, skinny guy who seemed to be smiling only passively at the ongoing conversation in his respective group, She couldn’t call him handsome, or “cute”, as some of the girls would say – Cela herself cringed at the term – but he was uniquely attractive, with deepset dark eyes and a wide, generous mouth, and his short, mussed brown hair looked like it had been run through with its owner’s hand many a time throughout the day. He was looking at her with an odd, thoughtful expression, chin resting on his hand, mouth quirked to the side in an absentminded smirk at some unknown amusement. After a moment, he boldly flashed an arrogant grin at her. Cela’s face colored and she turned quickly back to her cluster of people, but couldn’t help but glance back at him. He had already returned to his group’s discussion, still leaning on his elbow, talking easily with another boy, arrogance written all over his body.

Hmph. Cela shrugged him off, and returned to her tater tots and listening. As such, she wasn’t watching to see his gaze flicker back to her several more times over the course of lunch.

 

 

“Saturday is undoubtedly the most overrated thing ever invented,” Cela muttered to herself. It was overcast outside, with thick, dark clouds looming heavily in the sky, seemingly bulging with withheld rain. Staring out the window, Cela could just imagine one of them snagging on one of the tall, lean pines outside, gashing the cloud through and flooding the area. She smiled to herself. How dramatic.

She twiddled her pen over her English paper, deliberating over her wording, then flipped her copy of The Scarlet Letter open to reference a particular passage. Struggling over the seemingly awkwardly written piece, she gave an exasperated sigh and leaned back in her chair to watch the dreary clouds float by again.

Her thoughts drifted with the clouds, coming to rest on first one subject and then another. They eventually alighted on that dark set of eyes from the cafeteria. Hmmm… I don’t even know who he is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him around school before. Grateful for a distraction, Cela dug out last year’s school yearbook, flipping through the pages, scanning faces until she was confident that he wasn’t there. Tossing the yearbook back into the shelf, she leaned back in her chair again. Part of her wanted to giggle like a silly girl over a decent-looking guy grinning at her like he had, while the other side felt like glaring daggers at him for his arrogance.

Again, her thoughts wandered, lost in daydreams and what-ifs, The Scarlet Letter lying forgotten in front of her. Staring at the forested hills beyond her windowpane, her mind inevitably came back to that doorway in the grove. She still found herself turning it over and over in her mind, trying to puzzle out how it worked, why it was there, and who put it there? She mulled over the questions, chewing determinedly on her pen. She gave up in exasperation when she found herself once more imagining ancient mages with glowing staves or covens of witches chanting around candles under the stars.

“I read too much fantasy,” she sighed, leaning back to take in her rather impressive collection, its weight causing the cheap shelves to sag heavily on their pegs in their particle board frame. She moved from her chair to her bed, flopping ungracefully onto her back to stare at the ceiling, imagining grand adventures with her and Sam galloping across those grassy hills.

Suddenly she sat upright in her bed. Did I close the door last time? She racked her brain for the memory but couldn't seem to remember anything but focusing on getting that silly horse home. At last she was forced to come to the conclusion that she had left the door wide open, a perfect invitation to curious creatures - or people! - who could wander in and never find their way out.

Cursing under her breath, Cela began pulling on socks and boots. A quick glance out the window assured her that her mother would be at the shop, preparing for the incoming weather.

She slipped down the stairs and outside, striding briskly across the yard to the barn. For once, she haltered Sam and tied him outside the tack room, before fully saddling him, adding a set of saddlebags carefully loaded with a raincoat, flashlight, hobbles, and a few other items, just in case she got caught in the upcoming storm. She glared at him pointedly as she slid his bridle on over his halter.

“You're not running away from me this time!”

Sam merely sighed.

Once outside, she swung into the saddle and together they struck off down the trail, thunderclouds looming ominously overhead.

 

 

Luke leaned back in his saddle to avoid a low hanging branch. Righting himself, he grumbled for the umpteenth time at Risky for being so tall. The black draft cross gelding positively towered over Maggie, whose average height did nothing to stop her from looking like a newborn filly next to Risky. Luke reached back to rub the Paint mare between her sorrel ears. Her eyes softened appreciatively. She was a good girl, if a bit nervous about some things.

Luke kept his eyes open for a good spot to set up camp for the night, but everywhere he looked there was underbrush or steep inclines. The prematurely darkening forest around him promised that the hidden clouds beyond the tree canopy were preparing to ruin his weekend camping trip. Besides darkening the atmosphere, this also darkened his mood. He'd spent his entire week ensuring that his school work was caught up and out of the way, no mean feat considering he'd also been busy helping his parents unpack and sort an entire house's worth of boxes.

At least the school seems nice enough. Better than the last one, anyhow. Several of the students had latched onto him immediately, including this one blond girl... he allowed himself an amused grin. She's good looking enough, though it's no fun if there's no chase! The girl certainly had flirted extravagantly during and between their shared classes, and anytime she could catch him beyond that. And what was her name...?

He shrugged, and dismissed her. Maybe he'd give her a chance at some point before his parents moved again.

Suddenly Risky's head shot up, ears pricked towards the woods. A moment later, Maggie's head followed, peering over Risky's tall haunches, her one blue and one brown eye both wide and alert. Urging Risky to keep moving with his calves, Luke peered into the woods along with the horses. After a moment he could finally make out the sounds of movement coming towards them.

 

 

At a steady canter now, Cela and Sam were making good time on their way to the door's mountain. Trying to block her worry from her mind was difficult as Cela crouched slightly over Sam's neck, keeping a watchful eye out for footing and problematic branches.

Suddenly another trail opened out beside them and Sam slammed on the brakes as two other horses spooked in place, their rider giving a start as well. Cela righted herself in the saddle and, embarrassed, took stock of the other trio.

 

 

The girl careening down the other trail had nearly lost her seat when the spotted pony she was riding spooked to an abrupt halt. After getting herself straightened out in her saddle, her eyes went wide and she let out a loud gasp once she noticed him, and managed to look rather horrified.

Luke found himself surprised as well. The embarrassed girl from lunch! Maybe today won't be such disappointment after all. She had caught his eye while Bret was going on about something or another. Aloof and quiet, though quick to laugh, she had sat at the edge of her circle of friends. When her dark eyes wandered in his direction, he'd smiled brightly at her, but she just blushed hotly and went back to her friends, apparently determined to ignore him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, edging a dancing Risky and dragging a reluctant Maggie towards the startled girl. Thunder rumbled through the trees.

“I'm fine,” she said, quiet and almost more to herself, brushing wind-tangled wisps of hair out of her face. “We just don't usually run into other riders out here.”

Luke smiled apologetically, and reached down to offer his hand to the girl on the little horse. “I'm Luke Stokes. I just moved into town.”

She shook his hand, her fingers small and gentle, but her skin carried the callouses of a hardy horsewoman. She escaped from his grip rather quickly, obviously uncomfortable with the contact. “I'm Cela.” Her eyes darted from his to her horse, uncomfortable with this contact as well.

So shy! Delightedly intrigued, Luke smiled curiously. “Cela? I've never heard that one before.”

She smiled an odd smile. “Short for Celandine. It's a flower that you'll see out here in the summer. It cures warts, when it's not being considered a weed.” Apparently she found this ironically amusing.

“Well at least yours means something,” he said. “I don't know what mine means but my mother probably just thought it sounded nice.”

She smiled slightly, but genuinely, finally looking up at him through her long lashes. Encouraged, he went on.

“This is Risky,” he said, patting the gelding's neck. “And that pack mule there is Mollie.” At the sound of her name, Mollie flicked her decidedly un-mulish ears in his direction before resuming her attempt to nose up to Cela's pony, who simply ignored her and held his distance.

Cela smiled warmly at the little mare, and reached out to scrub her fingers through Mollie's forelock. Mollie pressed against the pressure happily.

“This is Sam. I've had him for ages.” That explained why a girl of her age would be on a pony.

“Well nice to meet both of you. You go to Oakdale? I think I saw you there the other day.”

She nodded, blushing again. “Yeah, I think I saw you at lunch.”

A fat raindrop landed on his nose, then another splashed on his hand. Within seconds, the heavens were unloading their heavy burden through the trees, soaking everything. Cela gasped and blinked through water. They both reached back to fish ponchos from their saddlebags, both letting out a stream of expletives.

Once fully draped with plastic, he turned to her, trying his best to look invitingly pitiful. “You wouldn't happen to know where there's a good place to camp, would you?”

She looked at him a moment before turning to stare off into the trees, deliberating, chewing on a fingernail thoughtfully. She had very nice lips.

“Well... “ she hesitated, that finger still in her mouth, “I think I know a pretty good place. I was heading there anyway...” Her voice trailed off, and she looked worried. “It's, um, a little... I guess you'd have to call it odd.”

“Odd?”

“Well, there's this old house there, but it's in pieces for the most part. It's just... um... it's....” She fidgeted. “Weird, I guess,” she finished with a shrug.

Luke gave her a confident grin. “I'm sure I can handle it.”

Cela smiled nervously.