Читать книгу Hunter's Redemption - Eleni P Sianis - Страница 5

CHAPTER 1

MASON

They are from another world, another way of life that somehow has merged with our own. These worlds are kept separate for the safety of everyone. And yet, I connect them.

—Meredith T. Taylor, Churning Waters

As Mason Hunter looks down at his worn black Converse sneakers, each step crackles and crunches down a colorful leaf-strewn sidewalk of Peaks Island, a neighborhood within the city of Portland. If only he had someone to walk with. If he could choose anyone, who would it be? Mason imagines himself with a group of boys from his hockey team who always hang out together. He has tried a few times to get into their clique but always awkwardly messes up. Like the time he worked up the nerve to join in as they jumped up and into each other in a playful way, but when Mason did it, his head hit one of the guys under the chin, causing him to bite his tongue. The fun game was over, and each of them gave Mason an annoyed glance. If they were here now, maybe Mason could talk to them the way they talk so casually to each other. Would they talk about hockey or girls? Mason smiles as he imagines he would say something funny and they would all laugh and pat him on the back. Suddenly, Mason trips a little on an uneven part of the sidewalk, and his mind snaps back to the present. He continues walking and feels embarrassed as if people could hear his thoughts.

His loneliness vanquishes for a while as he arrives at the port to watch ferries carrying passengers from Portland to Forest City Landing at Peaks Island. This day does not seem different from any other. However, one tourist in particular catches Mason’s attention. In his midtwenties and walking hand in hand with a beautiful young woman, the man exudes an intense confidence and power. Mason notices the man’s expensive watch. A Rolex? How incredible it would be if Mason were rich and famous and could buy whatever frivolous thing he wanted. Then he notices a few people whispering about the man before one of them approaches and asks for an autograph. The man smiles and signs his name very nonchalantly.

Mason leans against a pole and examines the man. His smile looks more like a smirk. Mason can’t see his eyes under sunglasses, but it is nonetheless obvious by his casual demeanor that signing autographs is run of the mill for him. Mason imagines that he is in this man’s shoes. Fame. How incredible it would be to be famous. Fame means love, acceptance, adoration, and wealth to show the world how truly powerful one is. Is the man an actor? An athlete? It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that no one looks down on, rejects, or bullies a famous person. To be famous must be the most incredible feeling in the world.

The man and his girlfriend walk away, and Mason looks around the port. In most of the tourists’ faces, he sees a peaceful contentedness that eludes him. They rent bikes or golf carts with Island Tours and go for rides to admire ocean views and homes like Mason’s that trace the shore. The visitors rarely stay longer than a few hours. Nonetheless, for a limited period of time, Peaks Island is alive and active with strangers who do not know Mason and the alienating reputation his family of mediums has. By nightfall, the tourists board the ferry, head back with their families, friends, or lovers to the mainland, and Peaks Island resumes its stale mannequin existence.

Heading back home, Mason approaches the home of Trent Stellar, his tormentor for the past three years. Now in their senior year of high school, Mason still walks on the opposite side of the street to avoid any close confrontation. Nonetheless, the thought of Trent always brings back painful memories. Mason remembers his first week of high school when Trent came up to him, pretending to be a friend.

With a smile on his face, Trent said, “Hi, are you Mason Hunter? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Mason remembers his naive feeling of relief to have someone approach him in a friendly manner. “Yes, I am. How do you know my name? Are we in homeroom together?”

“No, we are not in homeroom together. It’s just that I can always spot a freak.” Trent bursts into laughter as he nudged Mason in the shoulder and walked away.

Now, only a block away from home, the usual suspects already begin looming around Mason. He doesn’t look up but senses the faint shapes moving slowly. In small, quaint towns like Peaks Island, there is always a nosy or bored neighbor watching from a front porch or living room window. Mason wants to yell at these supernatural things to go away, but someone would see, and the gossip would begin anew about how one of the Hunters is talking to ghosts again. Yet he can’t stand these strange, ghostly figures following him any longer. They look like regular people, but Mason knows they are deceased and trying to reach him in the hopes that he can help them with some unresolved issue. Usually, the deceased who visit Mason died while in a quarrel with loved ones and beg him to contact those loved ones with an apologetic message.

“Can you help me? I can’t rest unless you help me,” a twentysomething-year-old man says.

“I don’t do that. You have the wrong Hunter. Stop following me.”

“But, you can help me.”

“It doesn’t matter! I don’t care!” Mason shouts as he stops in his tracks and turns to yell at the ghost, “Go away!”

Just then, Mr. Hamel opens his creaky screen door and stands on his porch looking at Mason with arms folded across his chest. Mason looks at him, and Mr. Hamel just shakes his head in a disapproving manner. Mrs. Hamel steps outside, and Mason can see the husband whispering to his wife about the “crazy Hunter kid.”

Great, more gossip, Mason thinks as he picks up his pace. What an idiot he was to speak to a ghost in public like that. When he is out of the Hamels’ sight, Mason quickly looks around to make sure no one is watching, and he kicks a garbage can on the side of the road, knocking it over and spilling trash everywhere. It feels good to make a mess for someone else to deal with.

Finally, he is almost home. This time of year, the path that leads to the Hunters’ front door is lined with beautiful cabbages and mums in deep oranges and yellows interwoven with overgrown kale plants. Although it is mid-October, ferns still hang in a neat row along the porch ceiling. Wide wooden planks stained gray and laid across the long porch are peeling and in need of repair.

Mason’s mother, Hannah Hunter, follows the Feng Shui philosophy that red at the entrance of one’s home brings good fortune and so refinished their front door with a bright-red wood stain. She transformed the family room of their historic home into her own personal workplace several years ago. From the outside, it seems that people come and go as they might in any shop. However, Mason’s mother isn’t a shopkeeper selling unique home goods or souvenirs like other businesses in Peaks Island.

Upon pushing down on the large, golden latch to open the creaky front door, a cold autumn wind blows leaves into the foyer. Mason can already hear faint chatter and chairs slowly scratching the kitchen floor as several people move trancelike into a standing position. He knows they must be in shock having just finished a session communicating with a deceased relative. Absolute absorption and a profound intensity begin to build in his head. He knows what comes next. The ghosts sense another medium and are trying to reach Mason. Swarms of different colors cloud his mind and charge at Mason with an intense energy that makes him feel light-headed as he angrily swats them away like hornets attacking. Mason slams the door behind him.

A voice from another room shouts, “Mason, you’re home!”

Hannah appears in the foyer with her usual wool shawl (which Mason despises because it makes her look like a gypsy fortune-teller) draped over her shoulders. Mason continues to wave his arms in the air. Seeing his frustration during this supernatural experience, Hannah whispers in his ear, “It’s a gift, Mason. Don’t fight it, embrace it.” In a normal tone, she asks, “How was school?”

“It’s not a gift, it’s a curse. I don’t want to see ghosts. Everyone thinks we’re weird.”

“Mason, not now.” Turning to her guests as they enter the foyer to join them, Hannah says, “Mason is going through a confusing time right now. Teenagers, you know?”

Mason rolls his eyes in response. He wants to say more but knows it’s useless.

“I beat Jack again.” Mason always shares his winning games with Hannah. What Mason doesn’t share is how he wins. The memory of today’s game flashes back to him.

Mason is sitting across from Sarah, who is all confidence. Her straight black hair frames big, round, brown eyes. Two girls stand beside her and motion to more friends to come over and watch the game. A couple of guys, including Trent, come over and gather around the chess set on the lunch table. Trent looks at Mason and makes ghostly gestures. He adds a ghostly “boooohhh” and laughs.

“Sarah, why are you playing with this loser?” Trent asks.

“It’s for chess club, Trent. If I beat Mason Hunter, I can play in the championship next semester, and you know how top tier schools like that,” Sarah says while examining the chessboard. She doesn’t even look at Mason; it’s like he isn’t there at all.

Mason is there. He is there even if his classmates treat him like he is invisible. He wishes he could beat Sarah fair and square, but he knows he can’t, and right now there are others standing next to Mason who really are invisible. People only Mason can see, and this is his secret weapon.

“Line up your rook to protect the queen,” an old man only Mason can see says. Step-by-step, the old man guides Mason through the game until he makes a final move next to Sarah’s king, and Mason says, “Checkmate.”

Sarah’s jaw drops. The crowd dissipates without saying a word. Only Mrs. Janet, the chess club coach, smiles wide and congratulates Mason. Mason shakes Mrs. Janet’s hand and thanks her but can’t seem to make eye contact, knowing he didn’t win fairly.

Mason stormed out of the lunchroom and decided to cut class for the rest of the day. He kept thinking about Trent’s obnoxious laugh and Sarah’s indifference toward him. As much as he enjoyed seeing the shock on her face when he won, he couldn’t revel in his win, knowing he cheated. If only senior year would end and he could leave this place. He hoped that he never saw any of them again. He spent the rest of his day at the port to watch the ferries before returning home.

Back at the Hunters’ home, Hannah says, “I knew you would win.” She turns over her shoulder to look at her guests and says, “Mason is brilliant at chess. He has what it takes to become a grandmaster like Bobby Fischer!”

“Who?” asks one of the guests.

“Bobby Fischer. He became the youngest grandmaster in the 1950s or ’60s when he was only fifteen years old. Eventually, he became the World Chess Champion,” Mason replies.

“Hmm,” one woman replies with feigned interest.

In truth, Mason was not interested in pursuing a lifelong chess career like Bobby Fischer did because of the game itself. After all, Bobby Fischer was a paranoid eccentric who ended up living a reclusive life in Iceland. Some thought he was schizophrenic. Mason imagines a more exciting life for himself and knows that chess could be the means to the fame and fortune he longs for. He yearns for a life where he doesn’t have to deal with people like Trent. The title of grandmaster is a title he wants to attain not because he loves chess but because of all the people he could impress with it. At the very least, it would be a bonus on a college application and good for bragging rights at some future cocktail party or other event.

The two middle-aged women standing in the foyer smile at Mason and then sheepishly hug Hannah. “Thank you. We will call you to set up the next, uh, session,” one of them says.

They close the door, and Hannah says, “Let me clean up a bit. Apple slices? Or popcorn?”

“Both.”

In the kitchen, Mason sits at the kitchen table and watches his mother add two tablespoons of ghee to a medium-sized pot and turn on the stove. She adds the popcorn kernels, closes the lid, and begins washing and peeling an apple. In a few minutes, the popcorn kernels start popping.

“Did Ms. Garrett sign the detention form?” Hannah asks as she walks toward the table with a plate of apple slices and a bowl of popcorn. She bends over and kisses Mason on the cheek, which he wipes off. He feels guilty for doing so, but ever since he was about twelve years old, physical affection from his mother suddenly felt repulsive. It’s embarrassing and diminishes his perception of himself as a man. He was about to apologize, but Hannah pats Mason on the head before sitting down beside him. That made it so much worse.

The detention form for day 5 of detention was signed, and he had only three more days before being allowed regular lunch break. It had been six days since Mason was called into Principal Taylor’s office and warned, “These kinds of physical outbursts will not be tolerated.” How could Mason explain himself to Principal Taylor? Just the other day, Mason overheard the sophomore English teachers talking about how fit and well-dressed their principal is. One of them said she planned on baking her special cheesecake for their next meeting because she knows how much he likes it.

It began last week while Mason was bemused watching Bella read from her chemistry book. Out of nowhere, Trent Stellar came up from behind her, rubbed her back, and planted an unwanted kiss on her cheek. Mason saw the embarrassment in Bella’s face. If he were braver, he would have said something to Trent right at that moment. Something like “Leave her alone, scumbag.” He wanted to stand up to that bully, but he didn’t. Instead, he lowered his head into his own book and pretended not to have seen anything. His shame and embarrassment for being such a coward stung.

Later that same day, Trent approached Mason by bumping shoulders with him in the hall and said, “Talk to any ghosts lately?”

That brought Mason to his breaking point, and he wanted so bad to hit him. Mason clenched his fists and rushed over to Trent. But when they stood face-to-face, he froze. Mason managed to open his mouth, but no words came out. Standing there, with his mouth open, face-to-face with Trent, Trent pushed him away. Mason fell backward just as a rush of students came out of a nearby classroom. One of them bumped into Trent, causing him to trip over Mason’s backpack and fall on top of him. Mason pushed Trent off, and in the process, Trent hit the back of his head against the wall behind them. Principal Taylor only saw that last part and grabbed both boys under their arms and demanded they follow him to his office. Trent claimed that Mason pushed him first. Mason tried to deny it, but Principal Taylor said it didn’t matter.

“Absolutely no violence is tolerated regardless of who started it. Mason, if not for your outstanding academic record and series of chess trophies for Port High School, you’d be expelled. Trent, you are lucky, and I mean lucky that I don’t kick you off the lacrosse team for the rest of the year.” Hence, both students were placed in detention as punishment.

His torment from Trent began back in the seventh grade. Many of the kids picked up from their parents that Hannah Mason worked as a medium. One warm September day that year, Trent and some other kids from school were at their local ice cream shop when Mason and Hannah walked in. The lady serving ice cream was always a source of wicked comedic relief for Trent and his friends due to her lazy eye, stuttering speech, and colorful hair accessories. When Mason and his mother approached the counter, she exclaimed, “Hannah!”

“Hi, Mary,” Hannah replied, and Mason could quickly see his classmates coming closer to hear Mary stutter.

“I… I want to thank you for he-helping me visit with my d-d-d-dad.”

The kids laughed, and Hannah gave them a stern look before replying, “I am happy to help, Mary.”

Mason was mortified. Standing there before his peers, he knew for certain that he never wants to work as a medium. Mason stormed out of the ice cream store and in the process slipped on some melted ice cream on the floor. His humiliation was complete as Trent stood up laughing, bent over, and clutched his belly, and the rest of his crew joined in.

Now seventeen years old, Mason looks at himself in the mirror and is aware that he actually has become quite handsome despite the bullying he experiences. His face is oval with a well-defined jaw. He thinks about Brad Pitt and tries to draw comparisons. He examines his nose from the front and side, noting that it is long, straight, and slightly hawklike, giving him an intriguing fierceness. His hair is wavy, dark blond, and perfect for the popular undercut style he usually wears, but now it has grown long enough for him to tuck behind his ears. His almond-shaped dark-brown eyes are intense and gleam with the brilliance that lie behind them. The bullying at school would have been unbearable, but Mason has always found solace in his outstanding academic record and the ease with which he has always been able to grasp most school subjects.

Mason’s greatest source of relief comes from James Villas, his childhood friend. James attends a private school, but the two met learning to play hockey in kindergarten. They continue to play on a house league. Occasionally, James invites Mason to hang out with some of his private school friends, who would be considered “nerdy” at Mason’s school, but Mason finds them interesting and funny.

“Mason, that guy Trent is a complete jerk. I would just stay away. I mean high school will be over before we know it, anyway. We’ll all be far away from here,” James says as he tries to console Mason.

Mason nods and imagines a life somewhere far from Peaks Island where people didn’t know Hannah is a medium. Somewhere where new friends wouldn’t quietly disappear from Mason’s life after receiving whispers about how weird Mason and his family are. Sometimes, an entire day at school would end with Mason not having said a single word to anyone. His day-to-day life is a quiet, internal experience of the books he reads and the occasional ghosts he is accustomed to seeing walking about. Hannah occasionally tries to get Mason to open up to her about his experiences with ghosts or life in general but to no avail. After all, Hannah is the cause of so much of the grief in his life.

“Mason, you have to understand that these people hurt each day and ache for the ones they lost. By reaching out to the other side, we can help all of them find peace. In turn, we increase the positive energy in our universe, enabling all beings to move freely into their destinies. We can help clear the way for new life.”

Mason snickers and rolls his eyes again. Slowly, a ghostly figure floats up behind him. The ghost was a man in his forties. Hannah smiles at the man, but he looks at Mason. “I know you are there. Just go away before I turn the fan on, and you’re blown away.” He laughs.

“Mason!” Hannah yells. “Frank lost his family. They are in mourning and came today to say goodbye. How can you not feel for them!”

“So didn’t they say goodbye already? Wasn’t that the point of your little séance today? Please, go away, Frank. You don’t belong in this house. Not now, not ever!” And as the anger rises within Mason, energy exudes from him that pushes the ghostly figure back into oblivion.