Page 12 of Lovebug
“OH HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT THAT THING!”
Dante is losing his mind again. He’s frozen and pointing at a huge praying mantis, standing in our path, directly in front of me.
God, he’s gorgeous. How did I not see him?
“Oh, cool!” April says. “That’s the one that rips off a dude’s head after she boinks them, right?”
“Well, yes,” I start to explain. “The female mantis is known to cannibalize her partner during the mating ritual, but this here is a male. Mantises, in general, are incredible creatures who…”
I hear my own voice trail off as I feel a strong energy approaching behind us. I turn just as a man whooshes by me on the trail. I startle and lose my footing, rolling over my ankle. I’ve always had weak ankles.
“Ow!” I bend down to rub the tendons there, then realize how rude I’m being. I shoot back up to stand.
“Excuse me, sir, I didn’t see you there!” To my surprise, he keeps walking. “Good morning!” I call after him, slightly annoyed, but of course, I’d never outwardly show it. “How are you today?”
He continues on his way. Doesn’t respond. Doesn’t acknowledge my presence at all. Hmph. I supposehe’sthe rude one.
“The Wall,” April says in a horror whisper.
“The what?” I ask.
Her eyes are wide, and she’s pointing at the man’s retreating back—his clearly very muscular back, clad in a loose plaid button-up. His longish sandy-colored hair sways with each heavy step he takes away from us.
“The Wall!” she continues to hiss under her breath. “That man! They call him The Wall.”
“Who calls him The Wall?” I ask, matching her whisper because I have no clue what the heck she is talking about.
“Just, you know… people.”
April’s body posture changes, and she huddles us together like she’s about to go full spooky storyteller on us. The other three teens give her their full attention. I get the impression she’s used to having people’s full attention.
“Dude is suuuuuper weird and silent,” she hisses. “He’s been here for like a month, and he’s only ever spoken once.”
“Whatdidhesay? Whatdidhesay? Whatdidhesay?” Emily is equal parts glee and terror.
“He said… ‘CALL ME THE WALL.’” She adopts a classic spooky storyteller voice.
“No, he did not,” I say. “Why on earth would he want to be called The Wall?”
“No one knows,” April says with seriousness. “They say he’s like the new groundskeeper or something? But I think we all know what that means.”
“Whatdoesitmean? Whatdoesitmean? Whatdoesitmean?” Emily is on the verge of hyperventilating now.
“He kills people and buries them in the woods. Obviously.”
“April, please,” I admonish. “That can’t possibly be—”
“I’m serious!” she asserts.
“Hey, April.” Chloe gets her voice in there. “How do you know about The Wall and Mabel doesn’t?” Chloe asks.
“Naomi is on the board of the arboretum,” April shrugs with faux nonchalance. “We know things.”
“Naomi?” Chloe questions.
“Yeah, my mom. She lets me call her Naomi.”
April’s mother is what my father calls “a piece of work.” Sure, that’s a bit dismissive of him and not an entirely feminist assessment, but it’s also not entirely inaccurate.
