Slow Dance in Purgatory

17

“Since I Don’t Have You”

The Skyliners - 1958





Maggie spent most of Christmas vacation trying to be the best niece in the universe. She cleaned Irene’s house from top to bottom, discovering a few unbelievably cool things in the process: old vinyl records, a working record player, clothes and handbags and shoes that would make any little girl – or big girl - squeal with delight. Irene told her she could have anything she wanted, but Maggie realized playing dress-up would only remind her of the blue dress and dancing with Johnny. The blue dress had been relegated to the farthest corner of her closet, tucked away from sight in its protective zipper bag.

She set a few things aside, unwilling to try them on but unwilling to give them away, and organized and catalogued everything else, filling several boxes with items Irene was ready to get rid of. The spring clean reminded her of the locked window seat in her room. She’d never said anything to her aunt about it, obviously. You can’t exactly bring up ghostly apparitions over the breakfast table.

“Aunt Irene?” Maggie asked tentatively, brushing her dusty hands on her faded jeans.

Irene looked up absently from the photo album she was lost in. Her hair was disheveled and there was a dirty smudge on her nose. Maggie started at the resemblance between them…she had only to look at her aunt to see what she would like in fifty odd years.

“Hmmm, dear?”

“The window bench in my room. It’s locked. Is it some kind of chest or something?” Sometimes the direct approach was the best one.

Irene frowned and tilted her head to the side charmingly. “I’m not sure what you mean, sweetie.”

“There’s a lock underneath the cushion. You wouldn’t know where the key is, would you? I wouldn’t mind using it if it’s empty.” At little less direct that time.

Irene smacked the album closed and stood from the old stool she had been seated on. “Show me.”

They made their way down the stairs from the attic to Maggie’s room. Maggie eased the cushion off the seat, pointing to the little lock set in the smooth wood of the bench.

Irene stared blankly at the lock and then looked at Maggie with a puzzled frown marring her pretty face. “I never knew this was here.”

Maggie wrenched up on the lid, wiggling it without success. “Someone locked it…maybe…it was Mr. Carlton?” She said lamely, blushing at her attempt to be blasé and innocent.

Irene raised one eyebrow imperiously. “This is my house….at least for now. I won’t abide secrets. Especially Roger’s secrets.” She huffed out of the room and returned a minute later, slightly breathless and clutching a huge ring of keys.

“These were Roger’s. He kept them on him at all times, even after we no longer owned the businesses or properties they once opened. I almost got rid of them, but ended up shoving them in the back of his desk drawer, worried that I might need them at some point. Looks like I was right.” Irene bent and began trying to fit one key after another into the little lock. Several minutes later she cried out triumphantly.

“We have a winner! Let’s see what you’ve been hiding, Roger Carlton!”

Irene lifted the lid, and Maggie moved up beside her to peer inside. The book she had seen in Roger Carlton’s ghostly re-run lay on the bottom of the wooden enclosure. Next to it laid a thick folder held together with several elastic bands and a brown leather book with a snap closure on the front. Irene pulled each item out, one by one, and then shut the lid. Sitting side by side on the window bench where Roger had likely positioned himself many times before, Irene and Maggie opened the scrapbook that he had painstakingly compiled.

It was filled with articles and information about the disappearance of Johnny Kinross. Page after page held yellowed news articles both big and small, from publications both mainstream and obscure. Roger had organized them in a time-line according to the date they were published. He had fliers that had been posted in different counties and around the town. He had maps of possible sightings, and scenarios put forth by reporters and police alike. In one section, he had old black and white photos of Johnny Kinross that he had obviously taken from someone who knew him well.

There was one of Johnny with a car in the background, his arms slung across the shoulders of two other guys. The boys were filthy and bare-chested, their jeans and bodies mud splattered. The car was unrecognizable and completely coated in sludge. Maggie was pretty sure the picture captured the time Johnny and his friends…Carter and Jimbo?…had pulled the Bel Air from the reservoir.

Another shot was of Johnny in his graduation cap and gown, Billy and Dolly Kinross dressed up and standing beside him. Their arms were around each other, and they were smiling into the camera. Dolly Kinross stood in the center and gripped each boy tightly to her sides. Maggie’s heart trembled at the realization that the photo was taken only a month or two before the little family in the picture was completely decimated.

There were shots of Johnny at Gene’s Automotive. In one of them a toddler with his fingers stuck in his mouth clung to Johnny’s jean clad legs. Harvey? Another shot showed Johnny dressed up in a white sports coat with a flower on his lapel, a pretty blond girl in a strapless dress of an undecipherable color clutched to his side.

“That was Prom – 1958,” Irene said softly. “Peggy was thrilled when Johnny asked her. He was every girl’s secret fantasy and every daddy’s nightmare. Peggy didn’t have the best reputation, and it wasn’t helped by going to the dance with Johnny, but I remember how pretty she looked that night. I was actually kind of jealous. They were having such a good time. Johnny danced with several girls that night – one in particular who I hadn’t seen before...” Irene’s voice faded off in reminiscence. “Johnny seemed quite taken with her. I only remember because she looked so much like me….and you.” Irene looked at Maggie, a befuddled frown carving a deep groove between her blue eyes. Odd….I’d forgotten all about that.” Irene lost herself in thought once more. Finally she shook herself and shrugged, clearly unable to puzzle out whatever she’d been stewing over.

“If I remember correctly, that was just about the time that rumors of an affair between the mayor and Dolly Kinross started to surface. Roger was really out of sorts the night of the prom. I wanted to dance, and he was too busy talking to his friends and sulking to pay me much attention. I was sitting there, all dressed up in my beautiful red dress, wishing I were out on the floor, when out of the blue, Johnny Kinross saunters up and asks me to dance.” Irene sighed nostalgically.

“I’m sure he did it just to get under Roger’s skin, but I was still flattered. Roger had gone to get some punch…or spike the punch, most likely, so he wasn’t there to insist that I decline or make a fuss. Unfortunately, it almost caused a fight right there on the dance floor when Johnny escorted me back to my seat. I probably shouldn’t have accepted, but it was far too tempting.” Irene giggled girlishly. “It was a song that I loved to swing to, and boy, could Johnny Kinross dance…”

“Yes, I know,” Maggie choked out softly, fighting back the heavy despair that threatened to pull her under. She blinked back tears as she stared down at Johnny’s smirking image from so long ago. Irene stilled beside her. Gently, she reached up and stroked Maggie’s hair, pulling her head down to rest on her shoulder. She said nothing and asked for no explanation. Silently, they resumed turning pages.

“Roger was clearly obsessed, wasn’t he?” Irene said quietly after several minutes and several more pages of newspaper clippings. “In some ways, his life ended that terrible night, along with Billy’s and Johnny’s. He didn’t have the character or compassion to let the tragedy mold him into a better person. Instead, he let it blacken his heart and rot his soul. He and his father never got along after that. Roger blamed him, understandably, for the whole incident. Mayor Carlton went on to have several more affairs - ironically, Roger had several affairs of his own after we were married.” Irene said this matter-of-factly, but Maggie bristled indignantly at the humiliation her aunt must have endured at Roger’s indiscretions. Irene continued, undeterred.

“Roger’s mother never left his father. Very few people divorced in those days. I don’t think Dolly Kinross had anything to do with the mayor after her boys were gone. She remarried eventually. Did I ever tell you that?”

Maggie just shook her head. She didn’t want to explain that she had found the information on her own.

“She married the police chief. Caused quite a stir, it did. People couldn’t believe our upstanding Chief Bailey would marry a “trollop” like Dolly Kinross. But they proved everyone wrong; they were pretty inseparable from then on. They were married for at least forty years and even died within weeks of each other.”

The manila folder that had lain beside the scrapbook was a copy of the police report from Billy’s death and a missing persons report detailing Johnny’s disappearance. Roger had clearly had some connections. Maybe his father, Mayor Carlton, had managed to get his hands on the copies for him, but it didn’t contain much that Maggie didn’t already know.

The leather book was a personal journal filled with Roger’s scribblings over the decades. He had done some of his own detective work, and he had several theories about where Johnny Kinross had escaped to. None of them were even close to the truth. He had periodically done a recap and an update of his findings and recorded them in the journal. One thing was evident. He didn’t believe Johnny Kinross was dead, and it had eaten at him slowly and surely through the years.

Eventually, Irene shut the journal and eased herself up, stretching and groaning, from the window seat. “Do what you want with all this, Maggie. You can throw it out or put it back inside the window seat, but it’s yours to keep or destroy. Take the little key off the ring when you’re done here, and put the rest of the keys back in the desk drawer in the library.” Irene hesitated for several long breaths, as if struggling with the counsel that she needed to impart. “Just don’t let it become an obsession, Maggie, like it became to poor Roger,” she warned, looking down at her niece, who sat staring at the photos of Johnny once again.

Maggie met her aunt’s concerned gaze and shook her head slowly. “I already know what happened to Johnny, Aunt Irene. I don’t need any of this.”

“True…but you are obsessed, all the same.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Maggie whispered. “I’m in love.”


On Christmas Eve, Irene and Maggie watched “It’s A Wonderful Life” together with a big bowl of buttery popcorn wedged between them. Maggie wondered if angels really had to earn their wings to get to heaven like old Clarence in the movie, or if they were stuck in Purgatory like Johnny until they did. That night she cried herself to sleep, wishing somehow she could spend Christmas with Johnny, hating that he was alone as he had been every other Christmas for over half a century. She fought the almost irresistible urge to sneak from the house and head to the school; she even stole out of bed and changed her clothes. But her key was gone. Had Gus anticipated that she wouldn’t be able to stay away and taken her key? She headed back to bed, defeated.

She woke up Christmas morning and was thrilled with the stocking that her aunt had filled with treats and trinkets. Maggie recognized a few of them from Irene’s own jewelry box. She wanted to refuse them, but it would have hurt Irene. She thanked her aunt graciously and then skipped under the tree to retrieve the package holding the blue scarf she had found at a little boutique on Honeyville’s Main Street.

Shad and Gus came over for Christmas dinner, and Maggie presented them with their gifts. Gus had been easy to buy for. He desperately needed a new hat; the brim on his looked like it had been slept in – repeatedly. Shad was much harder. She wanted to give him something meaningful without him assigning too much meaning to it. She had finally settled on a Superman comic book that had set her meager bank account back a significant amount. She was glad she’d chosen it, though, when Shad opened it and went wild.

The holiday passed quickly, and 2011 arrived with little fanfare. Maggie went to the school several times through the Christmas break, but always in the company of Shad and Gus for janitorial duties or with her dance team for rehearsals. She made no attempt to seclude herself or call out to Johnny, and she didn’t feel him nearby. There was an emptiness about the school that was almost tangible. Maggie imagined Johnny floating somewhere far from her. If she called him, could she pull him back? Such thoughts shamed her with their weakness, but she couldn’t help herself; she missed him desperately.

The first day back to school after the vacation, Maggie woke up extra early and pedaled to the school. She needed to dance. Rehearsals with the team kept the crazies at bay, but she needed to move and sweat and feel without an audience. A few days prior, her key had magically reappeared, right where she had left it, sitting innocently on the desk in her room. Had she just overlooked it? She didn’t think so. Maybe Gus was extending some trust, silently entreating her not to blow it.

It was only 5:30 a.m. when she flipped on the sound system, peeled off her coat, and slipped off her shoes. She always danced with bare feet. She set her ipod on random and began to warm-up, jumping and stretching, limbering herself up. She loved the challenge of dancing to a song that a choreographer would never pick, simply because it didn’t have the right kind of sound or rhythm. Those were the best songs, because they forced her to really interpret the song through her movements, and she loved getting lost in the fusion of sound and soul. She danced until the halls started filling up with students, and she was forced to quit.

Every morning that week she arrived just as early and danced just as hard. She had been dancing for about an hour when an old favorite seeped through the speakers and into her battered heart. It was beautifully, hauntingly done. And for a minute she stopped and just listened.



I’ve lost my mind

Your love’s made me blind

I can’t even speak

Your love’s made me weak



But if you watch me I’ll show you

And if you let me I’ll hold you

So the words that I can’t say

You’ll hear anyway

You’ll know how much I long for you

How every note’s a song for you

You’ll know

How I just want to breathe you in

And lose myself inside your skin

I’ll hold you and you’ll know





She tried to let the music in, inspiring her, telling her how she should move. But it hurt too much. She was hanging on by a thread, and this song would sever it. She clicked off the music and stood, breathing hard, unwilling to accept the sheer futility of a love story that had only one possible ending. All week long she had danced for him, hoping he was watching and missing her like she missed him. She turned the music back on. She wouldn’t call, she wouldn’t beg, but she would dance. She would make him come back to her.


Her emotion pulled at him like silken tentacles, and he knew he couldn’t resist her much longer. He tried to lose himself in the haze of nothingness that he called floating, but he had felt her calling to him, and he slid back to Earth. He had watched her, day after day, trying to create distance by turning away, only to find himself staring helplessly at her once more. Her dancing called to him, but it was also the thing that reminded him she didn’t belong with him. She had a gift and that gift would take her far away, and he would have to let her go. He wanted her to go. He just wished, with everything he still was, that he could go with her.

She cried out for him now, and as hard as it was to turn his back on her love, it would be worse to trap her with it. He flashed himself to the farthest corner of the school, putting as much physical distance between them as possible and clenched his hands to his head, filling his mind with radio waves and static. His mind’s eye kept trying to tune her in, as if her signal was stronger than all the others. He fought it desperately, and breathed his relief when he felt her stop dancing.

It wasn’t until later on that he felt her loneliness and her longing for him well up again like a black cloud. She was so unhappy. Her misery clung to him, suffocating him. With a tortured groan, he clung to his self-imposed exile, but it was a losing battle. He told himself he would just check on her, just allow himself one small glimpse.

She was in the cafeteria. Rows of tables filled with laughing, talking, eating teenagers surrounded her like a human maze. Shad sat beside her, and he was clearly angry. He was looking at a nearby table filled with students, a few of whom Johnny recognized. The guy named Derek was standing on the bench and waving his hands, calling attention to himself. The cafeteria noise dimmed to a dull roar, and the guy on the bench commenced speaking.

“It seems a certain, attractive female – OUCH, damn it – stop it, Dara!” Derek was getting slapped by the girl sitting next to him. Johnny recognized her as the girl on Maggie’s dance team. The one he’d taught a small lesson to a while back. She didn’t seem to like her boyfriend referring to another female as attractive.

“Anyway, it seems as if a certain, uh….female came alone to the Winter Ball a few weeks ago. This female looked oh-so-fine.” He shot a warning look down at Dara, “But interestingly enough, halfway through the dance she was nowhere to be found. Her friends thought for sure she had left the dance and gone home. But to our surprise her car was still in the school parking lot when the dance was over!” The kids around him hooted appreciatively, and some sent up a few cat-calls.

“In fact,” the kid continued, soaking up the attention like a TV game show host, “Maggie’s car was still in the lot early the next morning!” The noise rose even further, and people were pointing and laughing, eyebrows raised and hands covering O-shaped mouths.

“Oops, sorry Maggie. I wasn’t going to say your name, but…oh well.” Derek smirked over at Maggie and made a little kissy face at her.

“Now Maggie won’t tell me who she was with. In fact, she told me to go to hell!” A couple kids clapped and whistled and a few booed. “So I want to offer $20 to who ever can tell me who our little Maggie spent the night with…. ‘cause I wanna give that SOB a high five!”

Maggie looked stricken, her face infused with color, her blue eyes bright with angry tears. She straightened, her spine as stiff as a board, and stood from the table, her untouched lunch tray clenched in her hands. She turned and headed toward the garbage without saying a word.

“Come on, Maggie! Don’t go! I’m proud of ya!” The loud-mouthed punk shouted after her. Shad slammed his tray down and stood to follow her.

“Hey, Shad! Your momma hasn’t been teaching Maggie some new tricks has she?” Derek howled with laughter, slapping the hands raised to him in high fives supporting his antics.

Shad froze in his tracks. Maggie looked as if she was going to be sick. Johnny was overcome with a pulsing, red fury. He swung his arms and sent lunch trays flying down tables, upending drinks and splashing food into laps. Kids cried out and scattered. Trays hit the floors, and food splattered over fleeing students. The table that Maggie’s persecutor was perched on began to shake as Johnny ordered it to quake and topple. Derek jumped just as the table tossed its human occupants and skidded across the floor, slamming into another empty table nearby. Johnny bumped a confused student, making sure the tray she was holding sloshed its contents over Derek’s head, sending spaghetti sauce spilling over his spiky hair and down into the collar of his shirt.

Johnny roared, and milk cartons exploded all over the room like bottle rockets and several kids screamed.

“Johnny... Johnny! That’s enough…stop!” Maggie stood next to him, her eyes wild, hectic spots of red high on her cheeks. She grabbed his arm, and Johnny realized he hadn’t kept himself hidden from her. He had lost his temper in a very messy way. Shad was standing just beyond her, and he was doubled over in laughter.

“What was that?! That was awesome!! I didn’t even see who started it! Food Fight! Food Fight! Food Fight!” Shad started pumping his fists and chanting, not seeing the principal bearing down on him. He ceased chanting abruptly when Ms. Bailey grabbed him by the shoulder and marched him out of the lunchroom.

Apparently, several students were taking the rap for Johnny’s display of temper, Derek included. There was some justice in the world, it seemed. Derek and several others were being led out of the room, heading in the same direction as poor Shad. Maggie overheard Derek protesting and watched as he was forcibly removed from the lunchroom.

“Nobody threw anything!” he cried. “It was like an earthquake hit the cafeteria. We weren’t having a food fight! I swear!”

Maggie looked back at Johnny, and her mouth twitched slightly. Johnny just shook his head; this wasn’t good. This was the second time he had caused mayhem in a very public way. He had to get control of himself. He looked down into Maggie’s big blue eyes and groaned. Her glasses had been splattered with sauce and she’d taken them off. She stared up at him with her heart in her eyes, love written all over her face. She was so unbelievably beautiful. He wasn’t going to get control any time soon. Here he was, back at square one. All that suffering, staying away from her, trying to protect her – all of it was for nothing now, and he didn’t think he had the strength to do it again.

“Can we just go somewhere, just for a little while?” Maggie held herself stiffly, her arms crossed in front of her, bracing herself for his refusal. But her eyes pleaded.

“Maggie….this won’t end well.” His voice was a tortured whisper.

“You can’t make me leave you again. I’ve missed you so much.” Her lips trembled, and his iron will shattered like a thousand pieces of glass.

Johnny grabbed Maggie’s hand, and they walked quickly through the double doors, leaving the chaos of the lunchroom behind them. He pulled her down a flight of stairs and through a large corridor before coming to a stop outside the one place he thought they might spend the afternoon undisturbed. No one paid Maggie any attention as she slipped into the dark auditorium and pulled the door shut behind her. She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark, feeling Johnny beside her, relishing the heat and energy rising from him. The stage loomed before them, unlit and empty, the curtains pulled wide to reveal glossy floors and darkened overhead lights.

The room echoed soundlessly with the highly charged emotions of a thousand performances. How many prayers had been offered here, pleas for courage and sparkling performances, heartfelt wishes for audience adoration and flawless deliveries? Maggie thought for a moment that she could see ghostly apparitions flitting across the stage. There was so much trapped energy and emotion in this room. It felt almost like a place of worship, a synagogue or a cathedral, where the dreams of so many played out in living color, year after year.

“Come with me,” Johnny whispered, as if unwilling to disturb the church-like silence of the waiting theatre. He wrapped his arms around her and gathered energy around him like a rocket’s boosters preparing for launch. But this time, the lift-off was a silent, weightless, rising. There was no explosive vortex of light and motion. This time, it was more like a suspension of gravity. They floated slowly upwards, gliding above the rows of deep set chairs and carpeted aisles. The ceiling was domed with a second row of balcony seats positioned on each side of a large sound box that boasted a spectacular view of the stage beyond.

Maggie watched as her feet rose farther and farther above solid ground. She felt like Lois Lane in the arms of Superman. She looked up in wonder as the ceiling loomed closer. The darkness was an undisturbed frontier, enveloping them in silky solitude. Suddenly, tiny white lights flickered on, puncturing the blackness with starlight.

“It’s like floating in space!” Maggie sighed, pleasure washing over her.

“There aren’t many things I can show you or places I can take you, but I can show you how it feels to fly.”

“Being with you always feels like flying,” Maggie whispered.

“And being with you brings me back to Earth.”

“Somehow, I think I’m getting the better end of the deal,” Maggie murmured, her face glowing dimly in the white light.

“If only that were true, I wouldn’t hate myself every time I give in to my need to be with you.”

Maggie placed a hand over his warm mouth. “There will be no talk of regrets today. There will be no remorse or second thoughts; today we belong to no one or nothing but each other. Tomorrow will come soon enough and it will take care of itself.”

Silently they floated until Johnny, with no apparent effort, sent them soaring lightly through the curtained opening of the stage and into a high loft where a myriad of old costumes and props were stored. Maggie felt solid ground under her feet, and the pull of gravity reengaged. Life’s weight reasserted itself, and Maggie wasn’t ready to return just yet.

“I don’t want to stop,” Maggie sighed mournfully. Johnny laughed silently, touching his forehead to hers and sliding his hands down to the small of her back.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait any longer,” he breathed.

Maggie was confused by his statement, wondering if he could only maintain weightlessness for so long.

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” Johnny repeated. “I wanted to kiss you so bad, but I didn’t want to lose control and send us plummeting to the ground.”

Maggie’s heart fluttered out of her chest and flitted away on butterfly wings. Her eyes slipped closed as he tiptoed his fingers up her spine and lightly traced the long line from her shoulders to her hands. He released her hands and circled her waist, his long hands spanning from her ribs to her hips. Pulling her close, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and was overcome by the desire to dissolve into her. Maggie stroked his hair, her wish to continue flying long forgotten. Johnny raised his head, needing his mouth on hers, trailing his lips across her silky cheek. She met him halfway and brushed her lips softly across his, tasting his warm honey flavor and savoring her name on his lips as he crushed his mouth to hers. They were desperate to be closer, to lose themselves entirely, and never be apart again.

The afternoon passed languidly – as if time had ceased and an alternate world had opened up where they were the only inhabitants. Maggie drug out a box of ancient costumes: top hats, coattails, and dresses with flowing skirts and puffy sleeves. There was a long oval mirror propped in the corner, and Maggie had the inspiration to dress Johnny up and see what he looked like in the mirror. Surely his costume wouldn’t disappear, too. Sure enough, the slacks and suit jacket draped him as if a flesh and blood man wore them. The top hat floated above a missing head, and his cane twirled from an empty sleeve. Johnny didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of this before. He could really scare the student body of Honeyville High now.

“You look so dashing,” Maggie teased, amazed that his missing reflection no longer had the power to frighten her. It was as if she had embraced all of him, accepting the truth of him, and feared it no more.

Johnny stuck a thick black mustache below his nose and curled his upper lip to prevent it from falling off. The mustache waggled magically on the headless figure in the mirror, and they both burst out laughing.

Maggie found a Marilyn Monroe wig and pulled it on. She struck a seductive pose and asked Johnny in a breathy voice if he preferred blondes.

“I always thought I did – until I met a cute little bug with big blue eyes and long dark hair. I’m a brunette man these days.”

“Really? You preferred blondes?” Maggie stood, hands on her hips, glowering at him.

“I liked girls, period, Maggie.”

“I’m guessing they liked you, too,” Maggie moped, flopping dejectedly onto an old stool.

“I would be lying if I told you they didn’t.” Johnny’s grin was rakish, and he waggled his brows lasciviously, making her chuckle in spite of her jealousy.

“What about you? Have you ever…liked anyone before?” Johnny asked, trying not to care.

“No,” Maggie said frankly. “I never have. Maybe it was just the lack of opportunity, or my survivalist mentality, but I never met anyone who turned my head…not until you.” She pulled off the blonde wig and ran her fingers through her mussed hair.

Johnny reached out and followed where her hands left off, pulling the slippery strands through his fingers. He studied her for a moment, devotion and desire playing across his features. He pulled her back to her feet in front of the mirror and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her. They stared soberly at the image reflected back at them – a beautiful girl held in the invisible arms of her soul mate. He moved around her then, stepping in front of the mirror, replacing the haunting image with something more tangible.

“Maggie. I have never loved a girl…not until you,” he confessed softly.

Maggie swallowed the emotion that constricted her throat. She had told Johnny many times that she loved him, but he had never said the words to her. He’d fought it – resisted it, maybe for her sake more than his. Now that he had given those words to her, she wouldn’t let him take them back. She was keeping them and keeping him for as long as time would allow.

Before long, the alternate universe they inhabited was absorbed back into reality, and Maggie reluctantly tossed the costumes back into the box and tidied the dusty area. Kissing her softly and lifting her in his arms, Johnny sent them floating back across the dark auditorium, setting her down where the journey had begun hours before. They didn’t say goodbye when they parted. They both knew they had abandoned goodbye. Come what may, there would be no more goodbyes.


Shad slammed the empty trash can down and kicked the door to the bathroom stall. He banged his way through all his janitorial duties that afternoon, slamming this, pounding that, taking out his frustration on everything in his path. After weeks of Maggie looking like she was dying a slow and painful death – circles under her eyes, sad smile, vacant expression -- she showed up after school looking like she had won the lottery. Shad was no fool. He knew what was up. She had seen her imaginary friend again, and he had lit up her whole world. How wonderful.

And to think he’d been worried about her all afternoon, worrying about the things that fathead Derek had said. He had wondered if she would even show up for work at all. He’d told Grandpa Gus a little about what had happened at lunch when Gus had shown up to bail him out of the Principal's office. Shad had sworn up and down that he had not thrown a single item and there had been no one to say otherwise. He had copped to chanting “food fight” and submitted to lunch detention for all of next week, and they let him go.

His grandpa had been cool about it, really. He had just reminded Shad who would be doing all the heavy cleaning in the cafeteria. He had been concerned for Maggie and was just as surprised as Shad when she showed up for work all glow-y and smiley. How marvelous. It made Shad want to hurl. Apparently, Johnny “The Ghost” Kinross hadn’t gotten the message. Shad had kept his end of the bargain. Take care of her?? He’d been tryin’! How could he take care of her if a certain somebody kept steppin’ in and messin’ things up?

Now here he was, cleaning up a mess he hadn’t made. That food fight had erupted at the perfect time, though, Shad had to admit. It was almost enough to make Shad believe there really was a God. Maggie seemed unaware of Shad’s frustration or even of his presence. She hummed as she scrubbed the baseboards in the cafeteria, her big glasses sliding down on her nose, her cute rear end in the air. Shad sighed. Sometimes he felt like the parent. What was he going to do with her?