As you may have noticed, my NaNoWriMo stalled out, partly because I realized I didn’t have some of the characters clear in my mind. But never fear, I still plan on completing the novel. I won’t leave you hanging permanently.
Someone asked why I was posting the novel publicly online. While it still might hurt my chances of getting it published, print publishers are becoming more comfortable with things that have been published online. But mainly it’s because writing this novel and posting the chapters is an experiment on my part.
Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
Chapter Nine
After fifteen minutes of fruitless searching for the Minnow in the Camelot High parking lot, Aidan gave up and found a payphone. He called home, and Stephanie answered.
“Is Jessica there?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Aidan let out an exasperated sigh. “She left me here at school.”
He heard her yell away from the phone, “Jess, did you leave Aidan at school?” After a few moments during which Jessica must have replies, Stephanie said, “She says you weren’t there when she was ready to leave and she wasn’t going to hang around all day.”
“Tell her to come get me.”
He waited as Stephanie relayed the message and got Jessica’s reply. “She says she’s busy.”
“Is Dad there?”
“No. He left a note saying he was at the museum.”
“OK, tell her to come get me or I’ll tell Dad.”
Another pause. “She says, ‘OK.'”
“Thanks.” It wasn’t until after he hung up that he began to wonder if “OK” meant OK, I’m coming to get you or OK, go ahead and tell Dad.
He turned away from the phone booth and found the man in chain mail standing there.
“Do you not recognize me?” asked the man.
“You’re my hallucination,” Aidan said.
The man frowned. “Something’s amiss. You were supposed to see visions of my life. You should recognize me.”
Aidan shrugged. “Looks like you’re bugging the wrong guy, then. I never saw you before you showed up in my room last night.”
The man looked completely puzzled. “You are certain? You have not been shown a vision of King Arthur and his knights?”
“Yeah, but you weren’t in it,” said Aidan. Suddenly, he realized he was talking to the hallucination instead of ignoring it as he had resolved. “Mr. Carlson’s right. I need to get rid of distractions.” He turned and faced away from the man.
#
Jessica sat in the wicker rocking chair on their porch, sipping a sugar-free lemonade. In the driveway of the house across the street was a U-Haul truck with its back open and ramp down.
“I thought you were going to pick up Aidan,” said Stephanie, standing at the front door.
Waving a hand dismissively, Jessica said, “He can wait a bit.”
“Whatcha doing out here?” asked Stephanie.
“Watching our new neighbors move in. One of them in particular.”
As if in response to her words, Lance emerged from the back of the truck, carrying two bulging cardboard boxes so easily that they might as well have been empty.
Jessica watched as he took the boxes into the house. “I think I’ll make him my next boyfriend.”
“What about Brett?” said Stephanie.
“Brett’s toast. We’ve been going out almost two months, anyway.”
Lance emerged from the house and headed back toward the moving van.
“Lance!” A woman holding a cordless phone came out of the front door of the house across the street. “Mrs. Gracen’s on the phone. She’s got problems with her movers, so she couldn’t pick up Gwen from school.”
“I’ll get her,” said Lance. He turned away from the van and walked toward a black Chrysler Sebring convertible that was parked on the road in front of his house.
Jessica set down her drink. “Opportunity knocks.” She got up and casually rushed across the street.
“Hey,” she said to Lance.
He looked up at her from his car. “Hey.”
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” she said. “I’m Jessica.” She flashed him her brightest smile.
He nodded. “Lance.”
“So, Lance,” she said, “I couldn’t help overhearing–are you headed over to the high school?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, good. My poor brother’s stuck there and my car won’t start. Could I go with you to pick him up?”
“Hop in,” said Lance.
She went around the car, swung her legs over the car door and sat down next to Lance. Damsel in distress routine gets them every time.
#
The man in chain mail moved back in front of Aidan. “You must listen to me–I am King Arthur.”
Shaking his head, Aidan said. “King Arthur is a myth. He never existed. You don’t exist.”
Aidan turned away from the man and found himself facing Gwendolyn.
“You won’t fool me again,” he said.
“What?” said Gwendolyn.
Whipping his head around, Aidan saw that the man was still standing there. Aidan turned back to Gwendolyn. “Uh, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“You weren’t on the phone?” she asked.
Aidan furrowed his brow. “The phone?”
She mimed holding a phone to her ear. “Cell? You were talking to someone.”
“Oh. Yes, the talking.” Aidan thought furiously for an explanation better than I’m hallucinating King Arthur. “I’m rehearsing. For a play. About King Arthur.”
Gwendolyn raised her eyebrows.
Deciding it would be best to change the subject before he lied himself into a corner, Aidan said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help set up the experiment this morning.”
A smile dimpled her left cheek. “Put water in a beaker? I don’t know how I managed it alone. So you don’t have a cell?”
“Sorry.”
“My mom should have shown up by now, but my battery’s dead.” She rummaged in her purse and pulled out a cell phone. As she did, a bottle of hairspray fell out.
Aidan reacted quickly enough to catch the bottle before it hit the ground. He handed it back to her. “Here you go.”
“Well, you’re quite the knight in shining armor,” she said.
Aidan pointed up at the Camelot High sign. “School mascot.”
Gwendolyn gave a small chuckle in response.
This was his chance to ask her to the dance, Aidan realized. His mouth felt suddenly dry. “Um, Gwendolyn . . .”
“My friends call me Gwen.”
“Gwen . . . I was wondering . . .” I should have practiced asking her out, he thought.
A large black convertible pulled up next to them.
“Hey, Gwen,” said Lance. “Your mom said you needed a ride?”
Aidan was shocked to see Jessica sitting in the passenger seat.
Gwen said, “Thanks, Lance.” She turned to Aidan. “I gotta go. See you tomorrow, hero.” She climbed into the back seat of the car.
Aidan nodded, still trying to figure out what Jessica was doing in Lance’s car.
“Get in, bro,” said Jessica. “My car wouldn’t start, so Lance here agreed to help out.”
“Thanks,” Aidan said to Lance.
“No prob,” he replied.
Aidan walked around the car and climbed into the back seat, next to Gwen.
“Weren’t you saying something before Lance got here?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. He wasn’t about to ask her out with Jessica right there.
#
They dropped Gwen off at her house first.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Anytime,” said Lance.
Gwen flashed a smile at Lance, then at Aidan. Aidan waved goodbye, but he wasn’t sure if she saw him before she turned to go up the walk to her house.
Lance pulled away from the curb. “Yeah,” he said to Jessica, “my dad works for her dad, so . . .”
Arthur appeared in the seat next to Aidan. “So the triangle begins anew.”
“What triangle?” said Aidan.
Lance flicked a glance over his shoulder. “Did you say something?”
“Nothing,” said Aidan.
“Guinevere,” said Arthur. “Lancelot. Me. Or rather, you.”
Keeping his voice down, Aidan said, “You mean Gwen and Lance are Guinevere and Lancelot reincarnated?”
Arthur shook his head. “No. But there are patterns of fate that repeat themselves. Recurring roles.”
Aidan scoffed. “Right. So who’s Merlin? Mr. Carlson, maybe? Is he going to turn me into a bird and a fish to teach me a lesson?”
Raising his left eyebrow, Arthur said, “I had no idea that chemistry was such a powerful sorcery.”
“And I’m supposed to be you,” said Aidan. “Did you get haunted by the imaginary ghost of a myth, too?”
“No.”
“Lucky you.”
#
The crystal ball showed Aidan sitting in the back seat of Lance’s car–and it showed Arthur sitting next to him.
“So Arthur has returned, as Merlin predicted,” said the woman.
“As a ghost,” said the man. “He won’t be of much use like that.”
“True. But the prophecy said he would ‘live again.’ Maybe he’s going to take possession of the boy’s body?”
“Hmm.” The man frowned. “Even if he does, we’re left with the fact that this boy’s body will make a poor warrior. I still think the Ritual of Alcestis is the way to go.”
“Then we have another problem,” said the woman.
“What?”
“The boy needs to accept his destiny before you can take it from him.”
“We’ll just have to give him a chance to play the hero, then.” The man chuckled. “Perhaps a damsel in distress . . .”
NOTE: This chapter is a rough draft. You are free to comment if you wish. However, by commenting on my work in progress, you are agreeing to give me all rights to any suggestion you make. This means I can use your suggestion without any compensation to you in any way, shape or form. If you do not wish to agree to that, keep your suggestions to yourself.