The Giles Hollow Town Hall was the oldest building in the village. It was two stories tall, with ornate stained-glass windows down both sides. Built of thick gray stones, it had stood in the center of town unchanged for more than three hundred years and looked poised to withstand another three hundred without much effort. But, big as it was, the local population had long ago grown past anything the founders could have imagined, and the hall was no longer large enough for its original purpose. It was, however, still used for voting, and with the addition of a stage, perennial productions of Our Town and A Christmas Carol, performed by the local acting troupe. Residents could also rent it for weddings, parties, or other special occasions.
“Look at me, Lester!” a small boy called as the curly black wig he wore fell over his eyes.
“Very nice, Ethan,” said Lester. “But don’t you think it might be time for a haircut?”
The boy squealed with laughter and darted off. Not being able to see where he was going, he immediately collided with a young girl, teetering atop a pair of high-heeled shoes about six sizes too big. Neither child seemed to be hurt, as the two of them fell to the floor in fits of giggles.
Lester adjusted the jacket of his navy blue suit and slumped further down into the overstuffed armchair. He casually watched as a dozen younger kids ran around the storage area that doubled as a makeshift dressing room.
“Maggie,” Lester called to a girl in a pink dress. “You probably shouldn’t play with that stuff.”
“Why not?” she asked, turning so that he could see the maze of red lipstick covering her face.
“Oh, no reason,” said Lester.
Every year was the same. On the first Saturday of September, all descendants of the founding families gathered for their annual get-together. It was then that any child who had reached the age of thirteen was required to participate in the Drawing-In. This was the ceremony officially marking their entrance into the secretive world of The Council, and no one underage was allowed into the rest of the hall until it was complete. Afterward, the reunion would conclude with a celebratory pot luck dinner.
Lester wasn’t sure which he disliked more, the waiting or foraging for food through endless trays of potatoes and cold ham that had been coughed on and touched by every one of his relatives. So his usual plan was to eat sparingly and grab a sandwich when he got home.
In years where there were no children of age, the gathering still took place, but the meeting of adults was much shorter. Lester’s brother Bernard was the only thirteen-year-old this time, and Lester hoped the wait would be brief.
Glancing down at his watch, Lester was marveling at how fifteen minutes could seem like an hour when the door to the room burst open.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Amanda said, making her way inside. “I know I’m late.” She wore a short black dress and was still busily putting her hair up with a plastic clip when she caught sight of the chaotic scene around her. “Though,” she added, with a wry smile, “I can see you’ve been getting along just fine without me.”
“Oh, yeah,” Lester said, watching a five-year-old with a bushy handlebar mustache stroll by. “Things are going swimmingly.”
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Amanda laughed, deftly avoided being mowed down by two kids pushing a wheeled office chair at full speed, and walked over to sit on the arm of Lester’s recliner.
“You look nice,” she said appraisingly.
“Thanks,” said Lester. “It’s Bernard’s old suit.”
“Oh, right. I thought I recognized the mustard stain.”
Lester twisted his arm around and carefully began scraping at a yellow crusty substance.
“So, was he nervous?” Amanda asked.
“Who? Bernard? I Don’t know. He left with my dad this morning before I got up. Still, I doubt it. It’s all he’s been talking about for the last month. I think he’s actually looking forward to it.”
“Meaning you’re not?”
Lester shrugged. While the business dealings of The Council were a mystery to him, he’d grown up knowing all about the Drawing-In. It was held up as a right of passage into adulthood in his younger years. Later, it was wielded as a shield against too many questions. Any inquiries about the family business were met with the same response, assuring him that all would become clear after his own ceremony. So much so that he’d stopped asking and the idea of it had become distant, at times almost forgotten.
“Everyone gets nervous,” Amanda said. “But you’ve still got loads of time before yours.”
“It’s not that,” said Lester.
“What then?”
“Now that Bernard has turned thirteen — it means you’re next.”
“Yeah. It’ll be my time in a year and yours after that. So what?” Amanda asked.
Lester gave up on the stain and looked at her. “It changes people.”
Before Amanda could respond, there was a loud crash from the other side of the room, followed by a chorus of crying. She jumped to her feet and, within seconds, was straightening the overturned office chair and dusting white powder off of two kids. Tears soon turned to laughter as she tickled and made faces at them.
“Hey!” Amanda said, standing the last one on his feet and winking at Lester. “Who wants to play a game!”
Lester lay in the dark, unable to move. Of course, the game all the kids had wanted to play was Sardines. Lester suspected Amanda knew as much and was not at all surprised when she declared him it.
Sardines, a kind of reverse Hide N’ Seek, required Lester to hide while each of the kids, several still clad in make-up and wigs, tried to find him. When they did, they would hide with him until, as indicated by the name, one by one, everyone was packed together like a can of sardines.
Amanda had helped the children count to fifty while Lester ran to find a suitable hiding spot. He’d considered the bathroom, then thought better of it. The electrical closet, full of theater lights, seemed like a bad idea as well. Then at the end of the hall, he’d seen the low wooden sliding panel. The space behind it was just ample enough for him to get through and long enough to hold the inevitable swarm of kids who would eventually join him.
Once inside, Lester discovered that the tunnel continued and, curious how far it went, followed it. Feeling his way along in the dark, he’d been halfway around a sharp turn when his coat caught on something. Unable to go forward or back, he wriggled, trying to take it off, but the space was too narrow. Lester had never given much thought to claustrophobia. Now, laying there, sweat covering his forehead and his breathing increasing, he decided this was probably the wrong time to try to pinpoint his feelings on the matter.
He was shifting around in an attempt to see what he was caught on when there was a metallic squeaking sound, and several rectangular strips of light appeared on the side of the tunnel. He gave his arm a sideways tug, and the light went out. Repeating the process, he discovered that the button of his coat sleeve had gotten wedged in an old air vent. Lester scrunched down until his head was level with the problem and welcomed the cool breeze that drifted in across his face. Finally able to see what he was doing, it was a simple matter to get free, and he was about to slide back the way he had come when he heard a man’s voice. Peering through the vent, Lester caught his breath. The path of the tunnel had wound beneath the stage in the main hall, and he found himself gazing out at his brother’s Drawing-In ceremony.