Shadow Dancer (The Shadow Series Book 1) (19 page)

* * *

Catherine rose from her bed and hid her diary under her pillow. Smoothing down her white sun dress, she slid her feet into a pair of sandals, grabbed her sketch book and satchel of art supplies, and meandered into the living room, a song escaping her lips. Grandma Westfeld was in the back reading on her hammock, so Catherine decided to sit on the porch to enjoy the afternoon sun.

Letting her legs dangle from the porch and catch the warm rays of the sun, Catherine watched intently as a raven landed at her feet. Slowly it crept closer, until it was perched right next to her on the porch. It appeared to be looking at a red terracotta flower pot that contained fennel seeds. Catherine grabbed a handful and held her palm out for the bird to eat. Cautiously the bird’s beak snapped
up a few of the seeds and swallowed them.

“You have a gentle way about you,” said a boy’s voice.

Catherine, startled by the voice, jumped a little, breaking her eye contact with the bird. A strange boy with blond hair, wire glasses, and an innocent look was standing less than ten feet in front of her, though she hadn’t noticed him arrive.

“You startled me.”

“It wasn’t my intention.”

Catherine looked at him for a moment, taking him in.

“I’m Bernie. I live right over there,” the boy said, pointing at the ramshackle cottage further down the road.

“I’m Catherine.”

“You’re Mrs. Westfeld’s granddaughter,” Bernie observed.

“I am.”

The boy watched as the raven took more fennel seed from Catherine’s hand.

“Mysterious creatures, ravens. Don’t you think?”

“Definitely beautiful,” agreed Catherine.

“And intelligent. Did you know that the Celts believed the ravens were secret keepers?”

“I’ve always heard that they were harbingers of doom, a precursor to death.”

“I like my story better. More pleasant. Go ahead tell it a secret. He’ll keep it safe.”

“Okay.”

Catherine bent down to the bird, whispering softly to it as it perched quietly next to her. Bernie watched as she smiled at the bird, face
turning pink with delight. When she was done speaking to the bird, it fluffed its thick ebony wings and flew off into the blue sky above.

Suddenly, a screen door crashed open in the distance. A man dressed in denim overalls and a stained white shirt came on to the porch, a look of hostility clear on his face.

“Boy!” he growled. “Where’d you get off to?!”

Bernard, looking afraid and embarrassed, scrambled off the ground.

“Is that your father?” asked Catherine.

Bernard replied in an angry voice, “My stepfather Ernest. My real dad died a long time ago.”

“Bernard! Get your sorry ass in this house right now! Don’t make me come after you!”

Bernie, clearly embarrassed, turned to Catherine.

“I have to go,”  he told her dismally.

Catherine watched as the boy ran to the ill-kempt house. As he reached the porch, she saw Ernest Finkle
grab the back of Bernie’s shirt and push him in the house as shouting and swearing poured out of the windows, disrupting the serene calm of the countryside.

At the noise, Grandma Westfeld came rushing out of the house to Catherine’s side.

“Make me a promise girl,” she urged.

Catherine looked at her grandmother, a worried look taking over her features.

“Do not get involved with that boy. He is nothing but trouble.”

* * *

Jack would never forget the first time Catherine’s spoiled, rich girl persona was shattered, and he learned who she really was. Jack was at his locker after eighth period in junior year. He had just gotten out of detention for chewing gum in class, and he was trying to collect his books before going home. After grabbing several text books, and his three-ring binder, he slammed his metal locker shut with a bang. He heard the ominous clicking of high heeled shoes hitting the cold, marble floor. “Shit!” he exclaimed under his breath, fully expecting Vice Principal Burlanker to come swooping around the corner. But then the clicking became louder, faster. With a perplexed look on his face, he peered around the corner, staying out of sight in the shadow of the dark hallway.

Catherine was rushing down the hallway, textbooks weighing down her arms, legs moving as fast as they could. She kept looking behind her nervously, eyes wild and afraid. From the far end of the hall, Bernard Kendricks was chasing after her.

“Catherine, it was a joke!” he shouted after her.

“It was a sick joke!”

“I was just kidding! Honest!”

“No you weren't! Stay away from me!” she commanded.

Catherine was running as fast as she could down the hall, approaching where Jack stood hidden in the dark at an alarming rate. Kendricks, reaching the end of his patience, grew red-faced and enraged.

“Get back here, girl!”

“No!”

Jack watched as the fear in Catherine's eyes began to give way to tears. Kendricks was right behind her now, reaching for her arm. A fury rose within Jack, none like he had ever experienced before. He lunged from the dark corner and came between Catherine and Kendricks, startling Catherine half to death. Jack stared at Kendricks’ face as an expression of
deep malice and discontent formed on Kendricks’ face, causing Jack's upper lip to snarl upwards in distaste. Jack steadied his jaw as he lessened the distance between himself and the self-righteous prat who stood before him.

“Problem?” Jack demanded, attitude clear in his voice.

“Mind your business, Morrow! This has nothing to do with you.”

“Sorry, no. I witness you chasing a screaming girl down the hallway. That
makes
it my business.”

“Get your nose out of my business!”

“Catherine,” Jack said, “Go home, I'll make sure he doesn't bother you anymore.”

Catherine gave Jack a shocked look nodded and rushed through the double doors into the stairwell that led to the school yard. Jack waited until the door slammed behind her to turn his face back to Kendricks.

“What the
hell
is your problem?” Jack shouted.

“She is mine. Keep your hands off of her.”

“I think you're the one who needs to keep your hands off. Chasing her down a hallway like some psycho.”

“Call me psycho again! See what happens,” threatened Kendricks.

Jack tilted his head as a devilish smirk slowly appeared across his face. Shrugging his shoulders, he let the word come off his tongue again. He couldn't help it. Kendricks was entirely too easy to bait.

“Psycho.”

Rage exploded from Kendricks, as if someone had flipped a switch. His right arm wound up into a fist, pummeling forward fast, intent upon knocking Jack's teeth clear out of his mouth. Jack, seeing it coming, grabbed Kendricks’ oncoming fist with his right hand pushing it upwards, as his left shoved Kendricks’ jaw upward with a snap. Quickly, Jack pushed his weight in against his attacker, arm across his chest, holding him against the wall.

“Think you're gonna hit me?! Think again!”

“Get off of me!” pleaded Kendricks.

“Leave her alone, or you'll have me to deal with.”

All traces of amusement were removed from Jack's face as Kendricks tried to wriggle himself out of Jack's grasp. Jack stared at his foe with an intensity that could not be escaped. Finally, Kendricks stopped moving. When Jack determined he was calm enough he let him go, and he watched as Kendricks weaseled his way down the hallway through the same double doors that Catherine had entered just moments before.

Heart racing, Jack grabbed his book bag off the marble floor and slung it over his shoulder with a huff. Slowly, he pushed open the often-used double doors and walked through. He was about to walk down the steep stairway when a soft voice called his name from the third floor landing. It was Catherine. She looked less stressed now, less scared. Her hair, once in a high bun atop her head now hung in strands around her face, frizzy
and unkempt. Jack stood perfectly still, surprised at her presence. He stared as she walked down the stairs towards him, an expression of relief on her face.

“I just want to thank you for sticking up for me. I'm quite used to dealing with him myself.”

“He shouldn't be chasing after you or yelling at you like that.”

“He is mad at me because he wanted people to think I was his girlfriend.”

This surprised Jack. He had automatically assumed that the two were an item. Trying to lighten the mood, Jack let out a smirk.

“Yeah, I wouldn't go out with him either.”

Catherine chuckled.

“My grandmother doesn't like him much. Actually threatened to get a restraining order on him if he doesn't stop calling the house 80 times a night, but I talked her out of it.”

“Maybe you should let her,” Jack suggested.

Catherine knew he was right, but stayed silent.

“You should be careful with him... He's got a temper. I’ve known him a long time, and he is not all there,” Jack warned Catherine. “And he's not one to try and keep a cool head.”

“Thanks again, Jack,” said Catherine as she looked up to him, momentarily glancing into his eyes. “Would you mind giving me a ride home?”

“Sure, though I don't think he'll be bothering you much from now on.”

“I hope not,” Catherine responded.

As they made their way down the stair well, Catherine grabbed Jack's hand and didn't let go. Hiding in the shadows of the school court yard, Bernard watched the pair, his face scowling with deep contempt as the girl he spent his nights fawning over walked away, hand-in-hand, with the boy who bested
him in everything. In that moment, Bernard Kendricks’ obsession was born.

Chapter Eleven

Nostalgia

Morrow Manor

Fox Hollow, PA

October 8, 1997

Jack’s Point of View

“In order to understand any story,” began Jack, “you have to start at the beginning. If I were to tell you what happened with Catherine, without providing some back history, you would have a million questions. So the beginning doesn't start on the day she was born, or on
the day we started going out. The beginning is marked as the day Catherine came to town.”

“She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She was the daughter of some big-wig executive of the Philadelphia Museum of Modern Arts. Her mother came from old money. Catherine’s grandfather was the president of some oil refinery in Delaware. Catherine and her mother did not see eye to eye… on anything. From what I was told, life was not easy for Catherine under her mother's rule. She could be very cold and controlling, only praising or lavishing attention upon her when she did exactly as she was told. Her mother, unlike her father, did not appreciate the fine arts, and discouraged Catherine from creative expression, even when it was used as an outlet. Even as a young girl, she wasn't well. She was diagnosed with depression at the young age of twelve. Catherine’s mother had her hospitalized for a month when she was thirteen when she refused to come out of her room and take a break from her art work. Her mother told the doctors that she was talking to herself. To the day she died, Catherine denied this story adamantly.”

“When her mother couldn't deal with her anymore, she shipped her off to her mother-in-law's house in Gabbard's Bend, where she would remain until she moved in here, after we were married. For the first three years, she was homeschooled by Ernestine, her grandmother, according to her mother's request, but when she entered the tenth grade, Ernestine found the work too hard, and Catherine was interested in making new friends, so she enrolled her at Steeplechase. She spent her first year at school largely ignoring me. She was real chummy with Kendricks and his group of friends at first, and she made it clear that I was much too uncivilized for their brand of conversation. At this point in time, Kendricks and I largely ignored each other. We dealt in different circles. He was too scrawny for the football club, and I couldn’t care less about the chess club. We moved in different circles; we just had eyes for the same girl.”

“Then, at the start of junior year, something happened, and Kendricks had fallen out of her good graces. Now instead of charming glances, she gave him dark looks out of the corner of her eye. Meanwhile, he sat sullen in class, his smug look wiped away. Now it was me who she peered at in class with charged glances. We became a couple just a few days into term, and I had gained myself an enemy.”

Jack reached for the first projector slide, as Adam dimmed the lights. Adam knew most of what was coming; he had lived through it. Liam and Tommy did too, but they were too young to remember. Adam did worry about how his brothers would react. Before him, the screen came to life, flickering memories from before Adam's own time. Stony Field, Steeplechase's football field, flickered upon the makeshift screen.