Two Love

Chapter 3

Cold stone walls surrounded Marty. Sure, there were torches of fire blazing at intervals along these walls, but they afforded scarce warmth. Marty shivered violently as he trekked down the corridor, taking a right and hoping to find somewhere somewhat warmer. No such luck – another corridor, another blast of bitter wind. There was no choice but to trudge onward with a handful of hope.

Eventually, Marty discovered a golden chest. He prised it open, gasping when he saw the jewels inside. They were literally glittering. His fingers reached out to touch them... then – a loud CREAK!

The wall behind the chest was shifting clockwise, revealing a young man in knight's armour. His fiery eyes were so familiar...

"You have a heart of stone!" said the man – Marty recognised the voice as Everett's. Swiftly, he drew a silver sword from his belt – Marty, heart racing, instinctively ran in the other direction – Everett was following at a far faster pace (since when was he that fast?). A rough kick forced Marty onto the stone floor.

"Thought you could run away from your problems, huh? Ha! Not a chance!"

Just as Everett's sword plunged into Marty's heart, Marty's head shot up from his pillow. Sweat drenched his palms and his heartbeat was rapid like he'd been running. A sigh of relief – it was just a dream. But the anger had been real; he'd seen it the other day. 

Enough was enough. He had to apologise to Everett, and soon. Swiftly scooping his phone into his hand, Marty dialled Everett's number – one of the few numbers he knew off by heart – and waited for his mate to pick up. No luck: it went to voicemail.

The voicemail message was one that he and Everett had recorded last summer. First came his voice – "Hello, sexy lady! If you're looking for your Jewish dude –"

Then Everett had interjected: "What if it's a man that calls?"

"Ooh, getting gentleman admirers, are we?"

"No, no-"

"Hello, sexy lady or dashing gentleman, if you're looking for circumcised d-"

"MARTY! My parents are gonna get this voicemail!"

"Okay, okay! Leave a message if you like, but Tevye the milkman here will probably be busy doing important things like listening to Imagine Dragons."

"That's more like it." Marty could hear the smile in his friend's voice. Man, he would kill to hear that smile again. The phone beeped, but Marty decided against leaving a voicemail. He got to his feet and ripped a few sheets of paper out of his notebook, getting to work on his next grand idea.

*

Fortunately, Marty and Everett both had a free period first thing in the morning after form time. Unfortunately, Everett had chosen to sit in the haunted corner. This was the ill-fated place where, scribbling studiously one September morning, Marty looked up from his work only to find the meticulously maintained stack of dictionaries scattered on the nearby table. Then, before his very eyes, an Oxford dictionary pushed itself off the table and onto the floor!

Needless to say, these uncanny happenings indicated the presence of a ghost. Since that day, he had avoided the corner religiously; clearly, Everett had taken advantage of this information to estrange himself from Marty. But what Everett hadn't taken into account was Marty's great valour. He would venture into that corner, even with the ghost looming in his overactive imagination.

"Hey, Everett," said Marty. He abruptly stopped when he heard the sound of a book; but it was only Everett putting his textbook down on the desk.

"Go away," said Everett coldly.