The Fall of Never(109)

Soon, the sounds of the running water could be heard just on the other side of a leafy embankment. Giddy, Kelly hopped from the path and jumped the embankment. Her sneakers slid in the mud and she downed the opposite side with a display of clumsy acrobatics.

A small brook ran serpentine through a clearing in the forest. Its water shallow and clear, she could see the pebbly floor several inches below the surface. She’d watched an old western on television one night last year. At one point in their journey, the cowboys dismounted from their horses and saddled up to a trickling stream. They drank from it.

It’s like magic here, she thought, smiling. It’s like my own secret place, like my own secret world where I can come and never be bothered, never be afraid. Never-Never Land.

She bent and rested the palm of her hand on the surface of the water. It was ice cold. Laughing, she pulled off her sneakers and socks, wiggled her toes, and jumped straight into the brook with both feet. Sharp slivers of icy water shot up her shins, into her thighs, spread like wings throughout the rest of her body. She closed her eyes and stood there, slowly swaying with the breeze, and thought it might be possible for her to fall asleep like this—standing in the middle of a brook.

“I could stay here forever,” she sighed.

—Do it.

She opened her eyes, her smile fading. “Who’s there?”

Again, no one answered.

The icy water spread to her groin. After a few seconds she felt her knees grow weak. She suddenly had to urinate.

—Stay there forever.

“It’s cold,” she said.

—You wanted me to show you, so I showed you. Do you want to stay in Never?

“Never-Never Land,” she corrected. Then: “Who are you?” She scrutinized the underbrush, the shadows hidden behind trees. “Where are you?”

—Where do you want me to be?

“Come out.”

—Just tell me where.

She pointed to the embankment. “There,” she said. “On the other side.”

—Okay, said the voice, I’m there.

“Stand up. I can’t see you.”

—I am standing.

“I can’t see you,” she repeated.

—That has nothing to do with me. It’s all in your head. Whatever you want to see, you make it. Just like the stone.

The stone—the memory hit her with such force that she felt it as a physical thing. The stone and the ugly, angry-looking girl from town. That stone had just materialized in her hand moments before she knew she wanted to throw it. “I forgot about that,” she said.

—You tend to block out things that frighten you. You have that power.

“Who are you?”

—Who do you want me to be? the voice said again.

For a brief moment she almost said “Baby Roundabout,” but for some reason that seemed wrong. Instead, her mind flipped through the pages of her brain…and the first thing she thought of was a ridiculous nursery rhyme from one of her books, one that she’d always found a little bit funny and a little bit strange. Like the voice.

“Simon,” she said. “Simple Simon.”

—I am Simple Simon, said the voice.

“I still can’t see you.”

—I’m right here. You can hear me, can’t you?

“Yes.” Sort of: the voice was inside her head.

—Then I must be here.

“I want to see what you look like.”

—You haven’t decided that yet.

“When can I see you?”

—Whenever you’re ready, I suppose.

The dull throb at her groin suddenly blossomed into exquisite pain, and she felt herself double over, planting her hands into the water and dropping to her knees. The pain was fierce and acidic, reminiscent for some reason of oranges, and with one great exhalation, she urinated in her pants.

She thought she heard faint giggling coming from the embankment and she blushed, embarrassed.

It was dark by the time she returned home. Glenda fussed over her as she entered the house, asking where she’d been and stuffing her full of hot chicken soup. Her parents were nowhere to be found. On her way past her father’s thinking room, Kelly noticed that the door was shut. She jiggled the knob and found it locked, too.

Upstairs, she prepared for bed and crawled beneath the bedclothes, suddenly exhausted. Closing her eyes, she waited for sleep to carry her away…yet found herself concentrating on the sound of creaking floorboards in the hallway just outside her bedroom door. Sitting up, she thought she saw a shadow pass beneath the crack in the door. Listening, she heard the footsteps recede down the hallway until they reached the stairwell. She heard the stairs creak.

Pulling back the blankets, she slipped out of bed and padded across the floor to the bedroom door. Careful not to make any noise, she turned the knob and pushed it open just a crack. The hallway looked empty, but she could clearly hear someone moving down the staircase at the end of the hall. Hers was the only bedroom on the second floor, and it was unusual for anyone—even Glenda, except for when she read to Kelly at night—to walk around up here.

Kelly crept into the hallway and tiptoed to the edge of the stairwell. A soft yellow light played against the wall: the downstairs hall light. Peering over the railing, she made out the lumbering shuffle of her father as he eased down the last of the risers and paused at the foot of the staircase. Black from shadows, he was only a silhouette to her, and she leaned further over the railing to see him better.