Lighted Words

Not bothering to get up from the sidewalk, Tom whipped out his diary and turned to the page where he'd written the words from the voice note. He'd misunderstood when M.S. said he hoped Tom's soul was stronger than his. The real word was sole, not soul, meaning M.S. hoped the sole of his shoe was strong enough to protect his foot, his right foot, as he hit the ground with it ten times.

Tom scribbled his thoughts down then stood up, his blood surging through his veins. Though he still felt so clueless it was ridiculous, he'd taken another small step. On August the sixth, Tom needed to say magic words that he didn't know, then stomp the ground with his right foot ten times.

As he ran the rest of the way home, he couldn't help but marvel at how completely stupid that sounded.

                                  ~

Three days passed with no reply from Hana, and though he'd never met her, Tom felt sick that something terrible had happened to her. Or that maybe she'd given up and burned the letter from M.S., surrendering once and for all. At school, Tom could barely think of anything else. He was losing his focus in school; he actually scored a B on a test. At least it was a try, which made his English teacher give him a thumbs up.

Every morning and night, he checked his email at home, sneaking up to his dad's laptop, and he swung by the store every chance he got.

When an entire week had passed in silence, his heart felt completely ill, and he didn't know what else to do but give up on her.

The Thursday before summer break started, he walked home from school, his head down, staring at his feet. He couldn't cheer up, feeling sad about Hana and the lack of any more clues from his mysterious stranger.

He was just passing the patch of woods where he'd met Sliver Head when something caught his eye on the other side of the road. A wooden sign had been hastily nailed to a sharpened stick and hammered into the ground. Some words were glowing on it, the letters shining like neon lights. He couldn't tell what most of the signs said from his position, but two of the words stood out like a pair of elfin in a hamster cage.

                      Thomas Noland

                                     ~

Tom ran over to the sign, squinting his eyes through the airy nature to read the smaller words underneath his name. His brow crinkled in confusion. He read the words over again, almost expecting the words to change the second time. Just when he thought he was used to how bizzare his life had become, he received a message that seemed to make no sense.

                      Thomas Noland

Meet me when the night is backwards dim. Don't look for a gender because it's an it.

The steps of your porch will do just fine.

But don't bring snakes, spiders, or swine.

I have important news for you.

I request motor oil in exchange.

One more thing, or it makes no sense.

Be sure to bring a soft pillow.

If Tom had woken up that morning and guessed one thousand things a special sign made just for him might've said, a request for the car's grease oil would not have made the list. Not knowing what else to do, and not really keen on anyone else seeing the sign, he yanked it up off the ground and carried it home with him, not bothering if the lighted words had wires connected to the earth, trying to sort out the message.

Meet me when the night is backwards dim.

Tom figured out that one almost instantly. "Dim" spelled backwards was "mid," which meant the stranger wanted him to be waiting for him at midnight—presumably tonight—in front of his house or around his neighborhood. The now familiar shiver of excitement tickled Tom's spine as he looked at his watch and saw he still had seven hours left.

"Bummer," he thought. It was going to be a long evening.

                                          ~

At dinner that night, Tom sat with his whole family eating spaghetti, the one thing in the universe his mom cooked that he liked, like chilly ice cream. If given the choice, it'll be a tough decision between the two. He absolutely loved, cherished, and enjoyed spaghetti.

He took a spoonful, preventing them from being fed to the floor as he guarded them for his mouth.

"What's going on at school?" Dad asked, reaching for the bowl of mashed potatoes.

"Not a lot. I'm doing okay." Tom realized he'd let his mind get too occupied lately, spending less time with his family. He resolved to do better. They were, after all, just about the only friends he had in the world, besides Nate.

"And Silver Head," he thought. "And Hana. Maybe."

"Just okay?" Lorena said. "What? Seems like Newton's junior got a bad grade or something."

"Oh please," his mom said with a snicker, as though the idea was the funniest thing that had ever been spoken aloud.

"Well... I did get a B on my last English test."

Dead silence settled around the table like he'd just announced he was an alien and was about to have a baby because on Pluto—which never existed—the men were the ones who got pregnant. They'd already dropped their spoons, staring at him blankly.

"What?" Tom asked, knowing very well what the answer would be.

"Son," his dad said, "you haven't gotten a B on anything since I've known you. And I've known you since the day you were born." 

Tom shrugged, scooping up a mouthful of spaghetti. "Ah, it's nothing. Maybe I had bad gas that day."

Lorena laughed out loud, then yelled in an abusive but joking manner, "Tom had a tooty-bun!"

That broke everyone up, and dinner returned to normal.

"Anything happen lately with your pen pal account?" Mom asked.

       Tom almost choked on his potatoes, for a split second worried that somehow his mom must've logged into his account and seen the email from Hana, maybe through dad's laptop. What can he expect? They work together and they work on the same file or whatever. Maybe it's even both of his parents that saw it. What will he do?