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Sunday

  Jeremy roamed the neighborhood with his clammy hands shoved in his pant pockets, kicking stones and debris on the sidewalk and in the gutter. In his right pocket hid Samantha’s panties, which he had balled up in one fist. He thought about having to go back to school on Monday, the following day, and frowned. He was sure all the other kids would be talking about what happened at Samantha’s party. He didn’t like being talked about. It put him in a real rotten mood and made him get into more trouble than usual. He didn’t want to get into trouble. He just wanted to be left alone. He even told the principal so but he was not believed. No one trusted him, it seemed.

  Jeremy slowed down as he passed Samantha’s house and glared hatefully at the large structure. So much more respectable than his little seedy house.

  As Jeremy passed by, stomping on a line of ants, Samantha came out the door. She slunk down the walkway and onto the side walk.

  Don’t look back, Jeremy willed himself. Don’t look back.

  But he couldn’t help himself. He turned and with that Samantha paused. He turned around completely, facing her. She walked right up to him with a sly smile.

  “Everyone was talking about you when you left, you know,” she informed him.

  Jeremy groaned and tilted his head back in agony. “Oh great! Thanks for telling me.” His face felt flushed.

  “Where you going?” Samantha asked, shyly.

  “To a secret place,” Jeremy found himself saying. He was embarrassed at his stupid response. Secret place? What secret place? The secret garden? “Come with me and you can see it.” Shut up, he commanded himself. What am I gonna do with this stuck up bitch? This girl that has caused so much pain and embarrassment?

  “Hmmmm,” Samantha thought, looking over at her house. She turned back to Jeremy and asked, “How far is it?”

  “It’s down a few blocks. Takes just a few minutes to get there.” So he was taking her to the woods, he realized. But for what?

  Samantha sighed and shrugged. “Ok.”

  And so the walk continued. At first Samantha trailed behind Jeremy but quickly jogged up to stroll side-by-side with him, who was quiet in thought.

  Jeremy stopped in his tracks and turned to Samantha, alarming her. An anxious hot flash came over her. “Is your dad mad at me?”

  “My mom’s mad at you. She’s pissed!” Samantha said half laughing. “She won’t shut up about it!”

  “But what about your dad?” Jeremy pushed. His stomach tied into a knot.

  “He looks kinda upset whenever my mom talks about it but he doesn’t say anything. He just looks… I dunno… disappointed,” Samantha answered thoughtfully, not having really thought about it until then.

  Jeremy sulked in place, regretting his unstoppable behavior. He guessed that meant he wasn’t going to get a grand personal tour of the firehouse. He was too afraid to ask Samantha.

  “Oh, thanks for the gift,” Samantha added.

  “Huh?” Jeremy was confused, still occupied with disappointing Alton.

  “This,” Samantha said holding up the shiny faux gold heart pendants necklace.

  Jeremy blushed. He couldn’t believe his mom would do that. Was this why Samantha was curiously chasing him around like a shadow today?

  “Sorry I… slapped your butt yesterday,” Jeremy offered awkwardly, not used to apologizing on his own accord.

  “It’s OK.” Samantha grinned.

  They continued on until they reached the edge of the woods. Jeremy pointed into the woods. “It’s in there.”

  Samantha unexpectedly broke out into a run. She jumped over shrubs and fallen logs and Jeremy had to jog to catch up with her. What the hell was she doing?

  He found a piece of discarded ply wood and picked it up, holding it in his hands like he would a cafeteria tray. Samantha’s tired panting seemed to fill the woods. Echoing. He looked up and saw her standing with her back to him.

  “Is this the secret place? What is this?” Samantha asked, out of breath.

  Jeremy raised the plywood over his head and brought it down swiftly, smacking Samantha over her little blond head knocking her out. Blood trickled down her sweaty temples. Jeremy gasped for air, chest heaving. What have I done? he wondered. Why did I do that? His briefs tightened over his sweaty crotch. He knelt over Samantha and placed his hand under her shirt. She had a heartbeat but was out cold. He raised her shirt and examined her breasts. They were soft, small. She was wearing a thin training bra. He contemplated taking it but wanted her panties. He could start a collection, he thought gleefully. Some boys collect stamps. Panties could be his thing. His heart raced as he lifted up her gypsy-styled skirt and he took in the sight of her panties. They were pink today. A very light pink. He pulled them off but quickly stopped when he saw the sparse covering of hair over her private part. He had imagined her completely hairless for some reason. Like a cherub. The hair was dark. Darker than the hair on her head. She should have blond hair down there too, he thought. But he continued to pull off her panties until they were fully in his possession. At which point he sunk his face in it. This time the scent was not of freshly laundered cotton but her private parts. The cotton was slightly wet. She must have been sweating, he thought. I’m all sweaty too.

  Jeremy got on his hands and knees and hovered over Samantha. He kissed her on the lips and felt his pants moisten. He looked down and saw that he had pissed himself.

  “Aww shit!” he exclaimed. He bundled up the pink panties into his left pocket, now one panty per pocket, and leapt up to his feet.

  He decided to run to the old abandoned house on Pelican Drive, a cul-de-sac. He liked hanging out there sometimes and knew how to get in. People claimed the house was haunted but that didn’t scare him.

  Jeremy looked around and gave one last look at Samantha lying in the shrubbery, her skirt pulled up to her belly, legs spread. Her shirt pulled over her breasts. Jeremy allowed his eyes to linger at her most private parts before fleeing out of the woods. He made a mad dash past his block, past Beverly Drive, and turned into Pelican Drive. He was lucky to not have encountered anyone on the way. The abandoned house sat at the very end of the drive.

  Jeremy made his way into the old house through a side window and plopped down against the wall. He spread his legs open hoping to air out his pants but decided it was best to take his pants off completely. No chance of anyone walking in on him here, except maybe a stray cat.

  Jeremy reached into the pant pockets and pulled out the two little undies and examined them as if they were royal treasures. He decided that he liked the pink ones, the new pair, better than the white one. He crumpled up the white one and lit a match. Slowly and carefully he married the flame to the worn white cotton. Watching in awe at the flame consuming what was once a beautiful white piece of clothing. Now a useless ash forming mess. Jeremy tossed the still flaming half-undie into the dark and cluttered corner and lay down on his side, facing the wall. He clutched the wadded up pink panty and held it up to his face. Closing his eyes. The excitement had worn him out and he quickly slipped into a slumber. A warm, soft slumber. He felt himself drifting on a thick seductive cloud.

  The residents of Pelican Drive stood around, huddled, watching from a relatively safe distance as the blaze consumed the side of the old haunted house. The flames reached out the front window like long arms reaching up to the sky, begging for air. Begging for mercy.

  Alton Jones clad in his yellow firefighter’s uniform ran out of the building through the front door clutching a young boy. It was Jeremy. He hung limp and motionless in the arms of his retriever. Alton laid him down on the sidewalk and examined him. An EMT rushed in and proceeded to check his pulse and airways. There was no breath. No heart beat. No pulse. From all appearances Jeremy was dead. His backside was completely burnt. The skin hung off in strips. His front was blackened by the smoke save the area around his mouth and nose, which usually is the darkest part in cases like these. He held the pink cotton bundle to his nose and mouth as he slept.
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  Alton pulled the pink panty from Jeremy’s clutch. He stretched it out and looked over the peculiar possession. He knew this. This was Samantha’s. His own daughters. An ice cold panic ran through his being.

  “Samantha,” he gasped. Alton turned to the hell house with mortal fear and shouted his daughter’s name.

  “Samantha’s in there!” he shouted to no one and everyone as he made a sprint for the door.

  “Don’t go in there!” another fireman shouted after him. “Alton!”

  But it was too late. Alton returned to the fiery pit to retrieve his only daughter. His sweet, innocent Samantha.

  A few minutes passed before with a painful creak, the burning side of the house collapsed in on itself. “Alton!” the firemen shouted. They ran around frantically without a cohesive plan. Alton would have called back by now to let them know he was OK. But he wasn’t OK. He was dead. A large burning plank came crashing down on him, trapping him in the choking black fog.

  A chorus of chatter overcame the residents of Pelican Drive. The workers turned from the flaming house to see what the bystanders were gaping at: a thin figure wandering towards them, like a zombie from the grave. It was a girl with long, disheveled blond hair and a flowing skirt. She was covered in leaves and smeared with dirt. Coagulated blood caked her temples giving the appearance of thin black snakes slithering downward. A snake-matted Medusa. It was Samantha.

  No one knew who would go and comfort her. The view was quite shocking. The always immaculate Samantha looking as if she had just crawled through the jungles of Cambodia stopped all else from continuing. Finally after an unbearably long moment, a fireman approached her, held his arm around her frail and trembling shoulders.

  “What happened?” he asked in genuine concern.

  “Where’s my Daddy?” she sobbed.

  “What happened to you?” the fireman asked more sternly this time, wanting to know, and also wanting to avoid the topic of her father, now most certainly dead.

  Samantha made a pained face and cried, “Jeremy… he…”

  And that’s when she saw him. Lying on the sidewalk just feet away from her. Burnt. Blackened. Dead.

  The fireman saw that Samantha had glimpsed Jeremy’s corpse on the sidewalk and offered, “Jeremy is dead. I’m sorry.”

  Samantha stopped herself from revealing what Jeremy had done to her in the woods, that he had taken her underwear and left her out there like a dead rape victim, spread eagle. Sprawled out for the trees to ogle her body. Her thoughts returned to her father. “Where’s my Daddy!” she shrieked.

  The fireman looked at her with sad eyes, half shrugging, not knowing what to say. Not knowing with one hundred percent certainty that Alton was dead, though the chances were high. He turned his heavy head to the house. The fire was being subdued and three firemen were rushing into the smoking building. Samantha watched intently, waiting for her dad to come out. To run to her and hug her. To tell her that he was all right. But instead he was carried out by the arms and legs, limp yet heavy. His face blackened like a chimney sweep.

  Samantha shook. She felt cold all over despite the heat the ravaging flames emitted.

  The firemen carefully laid Alton down besides Jeremy. Samantha stood in place watching as the EMTs, who had given up on Jeremy, directed their attention to Alton. After checking his body for vital signs, the slowed their motions, shaking their heads. Alton too, like Jeremy, was consumed by the devilish conflagration.

  Samantha was safe but sorry. Safe from the fire starter. But sorry and saddened for the loss of her father, who loved her more than Jeremy could have ever loved anyone.

  THE END

  * * *

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