Little Girl Lost
R. 07/17/2003.

"Grandpa, tell me 'bout the good old days;
Sometimes it feels like
This world's gone crazy...
Grandpa, take me back to yesterday,
When the line between right and wrong
didn't seem so hazy..."

That summer, down in the basement, bad things happened.

One of the reasons Jenny liked Grandpa was because he was so strange. He was always playing games with her--hiding things in his pockets, tickling her, making funny faces. She liked to come down to see him even though sometimes her Mama told her it wasn't a good place for her.

But this time, Grandpa was different. She thought it was more games (Pulling up his shirt: "See my belly? Can I see your belly?" and laughing a little when she did, showing off her rounded baby-fat, her belly-button that was just barely an innie.) but after a while, it wasn't fun any more, and she wanted to stop, she said so, but he acted like he couldn't hear, or like she was being silly.

Mama had told Jenny all about bad touching, about how when someone touches you and you don't like it, you're supposed to say "No" and run to tell on them. Mama hadn't told her, though, that sometimes "No" doesn't work and sometimes little girls just aren't strong enough to get away.

Grandpa held her to his side, carrying her, and said he wanted to show her some pictures. They were glued in notebooks set in shelves on his wall, in between some weird books and bracelets and stuff. And the pictures were really strange, kind of creepy in a way she didn't understand, so that she didn't want to look at them--but Grandpa held her chin.

"See the games those kids are playing? Doesn't that look fun? Would you like to play like that?"

Grandpa was asking her questions like the teachers at preschool did, like he didn't care what her answers would be. He wasn't even listening, just talking, almost to himself.

He lifted her and placed her on his desk. "It's kind of hot in here, huh? Why don't you take off your dress? It'll be cooler then. If Mama gets mad, you can tell her I said it was okay." But again, he didn't wait for an answer, just pulled the hem up, sliding her arms and head out of the fabric, tossing her dress on the floor.

"No," she said, different than she had earlier, because her dress was on the dirty floor. Her favorite dress, with the blue-and-white checkers on it. She hopped off the table without thinking and grabbed it.

Grandpa was behind her now, and she felt his hands on her waist, hard cold old-man fingers trying to grip the elastic on her underwear, and she knew if she was going to run away, it had to be now. Grandpa was blocking the stairs, though, and that was the only way she knew how to get out.

That was when she saw the door. It was hidden behind a bookcase, and it had a big X on it, and she didn't know if it led anywhere but she didn't know what else to do. She ran, Grandpa's hands slipping off her and before he even had a chance to run, she'd grabbed the handle and was turning it.

"Jenny--No!" And when she turned, Grandpa actually looked frightened, and she made a face at him. "I'm telling Mama on you now." But she looked back, and the door was open, and there was nothing there but...black.

And eyes. And cold. Grandpa was yelling some word she didn't understand. There were snowflakes swirling around her, and mean eyes glaring at her out of nowhere. Whispers, too, but she couldn't hear what they were saying. Finally a strong, high voice, like cracking ice: "Human, you who have imprisoned us...you know the penalty. What game would you like to play?"

Grandpa was right behind her now, down on his knees so his face was by her. He was crying. Jenny couldn't tell if she was crying too. It was so cold. Grandpa said, "Does it matter?" and he stood slowly and walked toward the eyes and the dark.

When Jenny looked up, there were two eyes right level with hers, and they were a brilliant blue, so different from the others. Suddenly she remembered something, and she held up her dress, pointing to the blue squares. "Your eyes match." And she realized she wasn't afraid any more. The eyes just looked back at her, and she kept looking, and it seemed like they would watch each other for ever.

...Until the screaming drew her gaze away. She caught a glimpse of her grandfather being swallowed by darkness, mouth open and eyes rolling in his head, and then even that was gone and the room was silent.

Then the other eyes seemed to notice her, finally. They whispered more, and she could hear some of it now. "She is ours..." "I want to taste her..." "...no claim..." "...disappear forever." She shivered, not sure whether she was scared again or whether it was just the icy wind.

But the blue eyes were there. They said, "I want to keep her. It would be fun," and their voice was like a waterfall. Some of the other voices laughed, and one said, "Ah, youth," but the blue eyes persisted. "I want her. I saw her first!" And then there was muttering, and then, "We know the law. You lay first claim, and she is yours."

In a split-second Jenny was surrounded by swirling darkness. She screamed, but in another second it was gone, and the space in front of her was a closet, and there was a boy standing in the doorframe. He had white-blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and he was smiling at her.

"Well, come on then," he said, and he took her dress from her arms and helped her pull it back over her head. "We're going to my house now. You'll like it there. You can have anything you like, and do whatever you want, and--"

"Will Grandpa be there?"

"No. It'll be just you and me. How does that sound?" And he waited for an answer.

"Okay! Can I bring my Barbies?"

"No, but I'll get you some new ones, okay?"

"Okay."

He reached out, and she took his hand, and just like that, the basement was gone.

**********

Jenny is fifteen years old now. She's gotten fed up with Barbie and her dumb plastic skin, and long ago she told Julian he could get rid of her dolls.

Three years ago she moved out of the turret. She doesn't miss her old room--it was a kid's room, with a little bed and piles of stuffed animals. What she does miss, though, is having the Lurker at the foot of her bed, watching over her. Of course, he was just there to protect her when Julian wasn't there, so now, it would be kind of redundant.

Julian's room changes doors about once every week. Right now it's behind the mahogany door with the brass handle, third one down on the right from the spiral stair, second floor. He always tells her where it'll be, but when she forgets she just checks doors till she finds it. There's all kinds of interesting things behind the others.

She still thinks of it as his room, though it's really both of theirs'. They sleep in the same bed, a big sleigh kind, and they share the endless closet.

Jenny remembers the first time he tried to kiss her on the mouth, something like five years back now, and she pushed him away and muttered "No," and thought about bad touching. She'd been so afraid, that he'd suddenly turn scary and not listen, like happened before with him. But he backed up and nodded, and said, "We have time."

She doesn't even think about Mama or Daddy or Zach or any of the others. She used to ask sometimes, when she was small, but she knows now that she'll never see them again, and she thinks, Good riddance. What did they ever do to help her?

Now she sleeps with Julian's body pressed against her back, his chin a dent on the place where shoulder meets neck.

It all started like this: One day she read a book where a girl gave kisses to the people she loved, and Jenny walked right up those stairs and kissed him and it wasn't bad at all. She decided bad touching's only bad if you don't want it to happen. So now she sleeps in his bed and she can't stop touching him.

*********

Sometimes Julian takes Jenny to Joyland Park, just like when she used to stay at Grandma's house, only at this park she has to hold his hand all the time, just in case. (It's not because he still thinks she's a little girl who might get lost; it's because his Elders aren't too fond of her.) And they go on all the rides together, and she shares her cotton candy with him. He plays the dubloon game with her, and they always win--and over the bridge there's always something new and wonderful on the island.

But the end of the day is always the same. They go to the penny arcade and head straight to the back, to where the wizard sits in his glass prison. Jenny stares at him, at his old tired eyes and the feeble little thoughts behind them, and she hates, down to the marrow of her bones. She smiles a feral smile, showing too many teeth, and she tells him all about what he's missing.

Then they leave. She doesn't ever take a fortune from him. He's just a shrivelled old monster, and he doesn't know anything.

END.

Notes: Song quote is from The Judds' "Grandpa, Tell Me 'Bout the Good Old Days."

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