Glitch

Cody, the boy with the fairy lights reflected in his eyes and the smile that speaks to mine in words neither of us knows how to say out loud, is holding my hand. Grass blades are sneaking into my sandals, tickling my toes, and the breeze that tried to steal my veil and blew Cody and me back into each other's lives is playing in my neck, stirring my hair.

My heart is alive. The evening is crawling closer, slowed down by the heavy load of promise it is dragging along with it.

Gazing into Cody's slate grey eyes, I am vaguely aware of my facial muscles starting to ache a little bit. I haven't smiled this hard in a very long time. I'm not smile-fit.

"You wanted this, right?" he asks, his eyes becoming hooded when my smile falters to give my face a break. "I didn't ambush you or-"

"Yes," I say, nodding my head to make sure that there is no confusion. "I wanted this more than anything."

I don't ask him if he feels ambushed or whether he wanted this too because I can see it in the smile now lighting up his face, filling his eyes again. I knew it without any doubt the moment my veil shifted from forming a wall between us, becoming a window instead, showing me his face filled with the dawn of recognition. He knew I wanted it too, but doubt is a nasty enemy.

"Good eve-. Is this thing on? Good evening... is it on?" Humphrey Richards has stepped onto the stage at the far end of the town square, looking like Don Quixote de La Mancha, on the verge of tilting at windmills. He is not attacking any imaginary enemies; his only target is the microphone on the stand in front of him, which he is tapping with a finger, sending loud rhythmic booms out into the atmosphere. Sick of being assaulted, the microphone screeches in anger, its piercing scream cutting through bone and marrow, calling a chorus of protests from the birds loitering in the branches of the trees scattered over the town square.

Cody's amused chuckle ripples pleasantly through my heart, stirring to life sections I've thought to be long dead.

"Good evening, everybody," Humphrey tries again. "Today's proceedings will be set in motion by honourable Councilmember Weber. As you know, we are all gathered here together for our annual-"

"Don't make speeches about the speeches that are going to be made, Humph!" someone shouts from the small crowd, gradually forming at the base of the stage, and the suggestion - or warning - is seconded by many others.

"We've finally all agreed that we can start now," Humphrey hurriedly changes track. "If honourable Councilmember Weber would just be so kind as to put down that pie and come onto the stage to-"

"When I'm good and ready!" A handsome middle-aged man with untidy hair and a badge-covered denim jacket shouts at Humphrey, causing the lanky man's Adam's apple to bob nervously. "And call me honourable Councilmember one more time if you want to become a permanent part of that stage structure!" he adds, waving his fork in the air in a rather threatening manner. Honourable Councilmember Weber has a big voice and knows how to use it.

He is seated at the counter of Aunt Suzie's pie stall, enjoying one of her luscious pies, and he is eating it from a plate, using utensils like a civilized person. Jack Weber doesn't generally do civilized things. Watching him cut bite-sized pieces from the pie and spearing them with a fork is almost obscene.

I giggle happily, enjoying the show. Humphrey and Jack are virtually always at each other's throats. The only time they are not arguing is when they're sharing a pitcher of beer and a basket of French fries while watching Ultimate Frisbee matches on the big-screen TV in Lola's Diner, Phantom's Rest's favourite hangout. On those occasions, they argue with everybody else who would rather have the channel set to football, cricket or the Olympics.

Cody lets go of my hand, and I look up into his face, alarmed at the departure of his warmth, but before I can feel lonely, he is taking my other hand, which makes it so much easier to walk side-by-side as we drift to the open area closest to the stage. The band has stopped making strange noises and is taking their places behind Humphrey.

We pass Aunt Maria McPherson, being guided to the clearing by Uncle Paul Stetson. She stops when she sees me, her eyes turning into large saucers in her mischievous face, and then she lets out her bubbly laugh and drags Uncle Paul over to us.

"Codester," she says when they join us and to my surprise, she rises onto her toes, reaches up and lovingly strokes Cody's cheek. He is giving her a defiant grin, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes almost as if he is daring her to say something cute. "I see you found her after all," she breathes, not sounding cute at all; in fact, she sounds pleased, and she's smiling dreamily. Dropping her hand, she suddenly turns and kisses my cheek. "Take good care of my grandson, Trudy."

Before I can respond, she is darting away with Uncle Paul - her willing captive - trotting to keep up with her while her happy giggles float to us on the wind.

"What?!" Cody gasps, staring after the woman who just claimed him as her grandson.

"You're my neighbour?" I ask, filled with wonder at the knowledge that Cody had been so close the entire time I'd been holed up in my room. He doesn't seem to be filled with wonder, though; he is frowning, his eyes running over my face as if he is not sure what he's seeing and is doubting the effectiveness of his vision.

"Which side?"

"I live with my uncle, Steve Davis and his family."

"You're Sindy and Allie's cousin?" His surprise is growing, and there might actually be some wonder trickling in there now. What is he finding so strange?

"Yes."

"Have we met before?" he asks, narrowing his eyes as if he will be able to see more of my details if they were not that big anymore. I don't like seeing his beautiful irises disappearing.

"Yes, about a month ago, in the field on the log." Has he forgotten? He seemed to remember me earlier. I would hate it if he'd forgotten me now. I know how easy it is to forget things that were right there in your mind the last time you looked for them, but now they're gone.

"I mean before that," he says, smiling gently. He is still holding my hand as if he'll never let it go. "Until a few years ago, I used to visit my grandparents very often during holidays. The Davis family has always lived there. Didn't we meet then?"

"No." I don't remember all the pieces from The Before. I'm trying to remember them now for Cody, but many things are shadowy, and my head is starting to hurt, warning me to back off.

"How did I not run into you again for the last month? I saw your family a few times."

"I was mostly just sleeping."

I see a frown bringing Cody's eyebrows together like two pretty, perfect caterpillars longing to unite, and I know that he is going to ask questions, but now is not the time for answers. Not yet.

"Since that beef pie has been successfully masticated," Humphrey's voice reverberates around us, catching in the branches of the trees and flickering among the fairy lights, waking up some birds, and they take flight in a noisy wave of chirps. "Councilmember Weber will do us the honour of opening this year's Festival of Community." 

"That's what this is called?" Cody and I echo each other, and surprised, we erupt into laughter. I love the sound of his laugh. It is rich and cheerful, so much more beautiful than the sound of his pain had been. 

His tears and the sobs wrenched from his broken core were exquisite, glimmering and bright like broken crystal, reflecting strong light. It cut and hurt and made my soul bleed, but his laughter is sun-warmed water spilling over a beach, smooth and gentle, a warm embrace, bathing me in its glow.

Humphrey has dropped the honourable now; I wonder if Mr Weber is pleased. He doesn't look very pleased, but I've never actually seen him look pleased. Not even when he wins any of his many arguments, I wonder what he would look like when he smiles. Perhaps if I stood on my head and saw his face upside down, I'd get an idea of what that might look like.

I almost try, but I'm still holding Cody's hand, and he gives me a startled look when I raise my arms above my head in preparation, so I just drop them again, giving him a little shrug. I'll try later. I'll probably need to be closer to Mr Weber anyway.

"I declare this shit storm started," Jack Weber bellows over the sound system, his voice even bigger than usual and letting go of the microphone stand he'd tilted towards himself to say his speech, he marches off the stage again.

"That was not the speech I wrote you, Jack!" Humphrey is complaining, but people are already clapping.

"Do you want me to show you what you can do with your speech, or would you rather find your own repository for it?" Jack grumbles, and the applause grows.

"Settle down, settle down," Humphrey says jovially (nothing ever dampens the man's enthusiasm), taking up the space at the microphone once again, waving his hands, repeating himself until the gathered citizens of Phantom's Rest quiet down. 

"If all our brides and grooms could move to the opposite sides of the clearing and line up there across from their partners," he is directing the scene using his arms, and I suddenly realise that Humphrey will make an amazing air traffic controller.

"Joseph Caldwell will lead his team in raising the town and school flags. Once the flags are waving bravely and proudly in the wind, proclaiming the abundant prosperity of our community and the pride we feel in living-"

"Get on with it, will ya?!" This is coming from more than just a few voices; the crowd is starting to grumble.

 "The band will begin to play our town song."

I didn't know our town had its own song! I am glad that it does. A pretty town like this deserves to have a song. The band usually just makes some disturbing noises during our festivals. I am looking forward to hearing the song.

"After the first chorus, they will march off the stage and move down the centre between our gathered brides and grooms and then our couples will join each other, falling in behind them as they pass. Please do not all just charge at them and form a mosh pit trying to find each other... like last year... and the year before... Follow the chalk marks on the lawn.

"Please start from this end, one couple at a time and form a neat line behind them. We will then march once around the entire square, and when we're back at the starting point just off the lawn over on that side, the band will come up the centre again towards the stage, followed by our happy couples. Once they reach the front, the band will disperse, and the lovely couples will form lines in front of the stage. Are there any questions?"

"What about the unlovely couples?!"

There are many questions; there always are, and most of them are along those lines, but I'm not listening any more.

"No!" I gasp when Cody tries to let go of my hand so that he can go line up with the other grooms. He doesn't want to leave me either and tightens his hold again when he feels my resistance. 

"It's okay, Glitch. You can just stay with me," he says, squeezing my hand. I smile into his eyes, but his words are making me brave enough to reach out and take the veil he's been clutching in his hand all this time.

"This will help us find each other again," I tell him, wrapping the silky cloth around his left wrist a few times before tying it in place, covering the leather straps already there.

"Yes," he says. "It will." 

His eyes are speaking to mine again, and I can still hear them clearly when we're joined by Sindy and Noah, and I grab my cousin's hand, beginning my journey, walking backwards to line up with the brides. My eyes are refusing to leave Cody while we're moving to the opposite sides of the clearing. 

My smile is coming back in full force again, giving my facial muscles another workout because I can see that Cody's eyes are refusing to leave me too.

~~~