Red Leaves

For fifteen minutes, they tried to figure out if the moving ripples in the bay about fifty yards away were waves or otters. The girl said they were otters, but the boy laughed. Waves, he told her, just waves. She wasn’t convinced. From a distance, they looked like they had black backs and were diving in and out of the water. They dove in place, so maybe he was right, though she didn’t want him to be right. He thought he was always right. Besides, it would be fun to think they saw otters in their park.

The girl headed back up to the path. He ran past her, pulling her hair along the way. She moved her head away from him but hastened her step, trying to skip on the stones.

She was a pretty girl. Her short hair clung neatly to her head. Her impeccably tailored white blouse was starched, and her jeans were ironed and creased. Her white jacket didn’t have any grime on the sleeves as is common for children her age. Her canvas shoes were bleached white and the laces looked new. Taking off her shoes and walking on the slimy moss was the only sloppy childlike luxury the girl would allow herself.

The girl liked the picnic part and the kite-flying part on the other side of the sprawling park. It was the in-between part that made her slightly weepy. She wished they could be at the green field already, unwinding the kite string. When the kite was high in the air, the girl would let go the string and run after the boy, yelling, ‘Higher, higher, higher…’

Fall was her favorite time of year, especially here, where the fierce salt wind blew over the red leaves of the white oaks.

‘You wanna head right on to the field?’ she called breathlessly to the boy, her voice catching. She stopped to put on her shoes, and he stopped, too, turned around, and walked back to her.

‘We are. Instead of what?’

‘Instead of going up to the castle,’ she said.

He stared at her.

‘Okay,’ he said, shrugging. ‘I thought you liked the castle.’

She didn’t answer him at first and then said apologetically, ‘I do like it. I’m just tired, that’s all.’

He motioned her to come. ‘Come on, don’t be such a baby.’

She tried not to be.

They walked on the path between the tall, straight oaks, around to the little boathouse, to the wall.

The boy hopped up onto it. The wall was only three feet off the ground on one side, but it separated the walkway from the water on the other. Every time the girl climbed onto the wall, she feared that she would fall into the water. And if she did, who would save her? Not he, certainly. He couldn’t swim. Holding hands was impossible. The wall was only twenty inches wide. No, she had to get up on that wall to show him she wasn’t afraid.

But she was afraid, and she was exhilarated. She already felt moist under her arms. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ she whispered, but he didn’t hear, for he was already far ahead of her on his way to the castle. She told herself to stop trembling this minute, and, sighing, got up on the wall after him.

Little more than the high-hilled view of Long Island Sound remained of the ruined castle grounds; the view and the tangled walls of forsythia spoke softly of the castle’s once glorious splendor.

A castle with knights, princesses, armor. A castle with servants and white linen. A castle with secret rooms and secret passages and secret lives. I have secrets, too, the girl thought, taking tentative steps on the wall. The princess in her white dress and shiny shoes has secrets.

‘Wait for me!’ the girl yelled, and bolted forward. ‘Wait for me!’

I THE GIRL IN THE BLACK BOOTS (#ulink_127e4b4d-6c6e-5433-af09-81fb95205d54)

To our strongest drive,

the tyrant in us, not only

our reason bows

but also our conscience.

– Friedrich Nietzsche

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_964f705f-7ed5-53fc-9c10-f23824cf49da)

Sunday (#ulink_964f705f-7ed5-53fc-9c10-f23824cf49da)

The four friends had been playing two-on-two basketball for only a few minutes, but Kristina Kim was already sweating. She called time out and grabbed a towel. Frankie Absalom, the referee, and Aristotle, her Labrador retriever, both looked at her quizzically. She scrunched up her face and stared back.

‘I’m hot, okay?’

Frankie, bundled up in a coat, ski cap, and blanket, smirked. ‘What’s the matter?’ he teased. ‘Out of shape?’ Aristotle panted, blowing his dog breath out into the cold air. He was not allowed to move during the Sunday-afternoon games, and he didn’t, though in a canine form of rebellion, his tail wagged.

Jim Shaw, Conni Tobias, and Albert Maplethorpe came over. Kristina took a bottle of Poland Spring out of her Jansport backpack, opened it, poured water on her face, and then wiped her face again. It was a chilly day in late November, but she was burning up.

Jim squeezed Kristina’s neck. ‘What’s the matter, Krissy, you okay?’

‘Come on! Come on!’ said Albert. ‘What are you doing? Stalling for time?’

Kristina wanted time to move quicker, to fly till one o’clock when she was to meet Howard Kim at Peter Christian’s Tavern. She wanted to get the lunch over and done with, and she was so anxious about it she couldn’t think of anything else.

‘I’m out of shape,’ Kristina admitted to Frankie, ignoring Albert’s remark. She let Jim rub her neck. ‘The season’s starting next Saturday, and I’m terrible.’

‘No,’ Conni said. ‘You’re fine. Yesterday you were fine.’

Kristina waved carelessly, hoping no one would notice her flushed face. ‘Oh, that was just an exhibition game.’

‘Krissy, you scored forty-seven points!’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. But Cornell wasn’t playing all out.’

‘I didn’t know they knew how,’ said Jim, now massaging her shoulder.

‘What time is it, Frankie?’ Kristina asked.

‘Twelve-oh-seven.’

‘Come on, you guys, let’s play,’ said Kristina. ‘The teams?’

The first game was couples against couples. Albert and Conni against Kristina and Jim.

‘You okay, dear?’ Jim asked, touching her back.

She thoughtfully looked at him and stroked his cold cheek.

‘Nothing. Hot as hell.’

Conni shivered. ‘Yeah, I’m sweatin’ myself.’ Squinting at Conni, Kristina smiled, thinking, she’s teasing me. Conni did not smile back. Biting her lip, Kristina said to Albert and Conni, ‘You guys want a handicap?’

They half-mockingly sneered. ‘Get the hell out of here with your handicap. Put your hair in your face. That’ll be our handicap. Besides, we’re going to win,’ said Albert. Conni didn’t say anything.

They lost 20-16.