u/WinterUnfair9435

Story continued from another post. These two parts constitute the first act of the story.

*****

Billy and Pat were the first students to arrive back in the dimly lit Main Hall. Mrs. Meyhew was fast asleep in a chair in one corner, an open book in her lap. Mrs. Carpenter and Mr. Berkowitz were deep in conversation in another dark corner. They didn’t even look up when the boys arrived. Fred and Shirley were nowhere to be found. The emptiness of the massive room continued to be unsettling. Billy and Pat walked over to Mrs. Meyhew.

“Ahem” Pat said, getting no response.

“Hey!” Billy added as he poked her shoulder.

GASP

Mrs. Meyhew sounded like a mummy having its first breath in 2000 years. It was a terrifying sound Pat had never heard before. Like someone gasping for their last breath.

“Oh, hi boys. Sorry I must’ve dozed off there for a second. Past my bedtime,” she chuckled, repeating her joke from earlier. “Are you done with the hunt? Assuming you’re the first back, I guess we have our winners.”

Smiles crept across both boys’ faces. The excitement of winning outweighing the creepiness of the moment before.

“Well done,” Fred whispered behind them, followed by a chest-rattling cough. AGHEM.

The boys jumped. Where the fuck did Fred come from? No way someone that old could move that fast. It was like he had apparated.

“Our lucky winners,” Fred added. “Want to see what your prize is?”

The boys gave a timid nod. Even Billy’s bravado had faded. They looked nervously around the room for any other students but found none. Fred rummaged around a canvas tote bag for a moment, then held up two wooden masks painted in the Mayan style. They were like Greek tragedy masks that had been gnarled and twisted to look even more pained. For a moment, Fred’s own smile seemed to match them. He extended them to the boys, who each reluctantly accepted.

As soon as the wood touched his hand, the drumming returned to Pat’s ears. All of the sudden, it felt like the oxygen had drained from the room. He involuntarily shivered as if the temperature in the room had dropped 20 degrees.

“Uh, thanks,” Pat said. Billy immediately turned to leave as he saw students begin to trickle into the hall. Pat was frozen in place.

“Ok kids, let’s all congratulate Pat and Billy on winning our scavenger hunt,” Mrs. Meyhew said sleepily. “You can drop off the items you collected here. Let’s thank Fred and Shirley for their help today and wish them a goodnight. Mrs. Carpenter and Mr. Berkowitz will help you get set up with your sleeping bags. Let’s hurry so we can all go to sleep finally. Past my bedtime…” The mention of their names snapped them out of their intense conversation. They only now seemed to realize they weren’t alone in the room.

*****

Pat looked at the clock on the wall and whispered to Ben and Devon in their sleeping bags next to him. “Ok let’s go.” Before lights out at 10:30pm, a group of the kids had made a plan to all meet up an hour later. They got up as quietly as they could and tiptoed out of the hall. An unnecessary precaution as Mrs. Meyhew snored so loud, they could have been wearing tap shoes.

The boys arrived in the Egyptian Art wing to the sounds of muffled giggles. A small group of boys and girls had already assembled. They sat in a circle in the middle of the room. Pat felt on edge as he walked through the darkness. He wasn’t sure if it was social anxiety or remnants of the unsettling feeling he’d had all night. Catherine looked up and smiled as she saw Pat. He eased a bit as he smiled back and the three boys joined the group on the floor.

“Cute PJs, Patricia,” Billy snorted at his own joke, joined by his cronies. Any bonding they’d shared earlier now gone. Catherine graciously rolled her eyes at him.

“We were going to play Truth or Dare. Are you guys in?” Catherine asked.

“Uh yeah of course. I love Truth or Dare. One of my favorite games for years,” Pat replied awkwardly.

“Ok great. So, you’ll want to go first then?” Billy said, jumping on the opportunity.

Pat looked around the circle at the group. How could he get out of this without looking like a wimp? This was not the plan. Pat wanted to get asked by Ben or Devon. He’d choose Dare and they’d dare him to kiss Catherine. It was foolproof. But now that was out the window. He took a moment to think of a response. If he said Dare, Billy could make him do something embarrassing. But if he said Truth, Billy could make him reveal his feelings for Catherine in front of everyone. He picked the best option available.

“Dare.”

The kids oohed at his apparent act of bravery. They had no idea how fast Pat’s heart was beating. He could feel it throughout his entire body. His palms began to sweat as he waited to hear Billy’s dare.

“Hmm what to do? I’ve got an idea, but you’re probably too chickenshit to do it.” Pat didn’t take the bait. He stood defiantly. Staring right into Billy’s eyes, he didn’t reveal how nervous he was for what came next. “I dare you to steal the dagger from the Mayan display.”

“Oh, come on!” Ben said in defense of his friend. “He can’t steal something from the museum. They’ll totally notice and Meyhew will shit.” A few kids nodded and offered a half-hearted “yeah,” agreeing but not wanting too much of the attention turned on them.

“Can’t speak for yourself, Patricia? You always let Bennifer do your talking for you?”

“Isn’t that Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez’s couple name?” Devon added. Some of the girls laughed. Devon smiled at his successful, albeit unintentional, joke.

“How about this? If you’re too chickenshit to actually steal it, just take it for tonight. You can put it back before Meyhew wakes up in the morning and no one will notice. By the way, dares don’t usually have this much negotiation. But I guess you’ve got your lawyer here,” Billy said. Something about the way he said lawyer sounded like he must’ve heard someone add a three-letter word before it.

>

Pat stood up to more oohs from the group. Ben and Devon gave his supportive looks that said you got this. Pat looked at the clock on the wall. 11:58pm. Halloween was nearly over, and Día de Los Muertos was about to begin. It made him think of his abuela. She had always said he descended from warriors. He needed to channel their courage. He had to be brave.

The Mayan exhibit was darker than ever and eerily silent. The display lights had turned off for the night. The blinking red letters of the emergency exit signs served as the room’s sole source of light. It was like he had descended into hell.

For some reason he couldn’t hear the drumming he had before. The only sound in the room were his own labored breaths. Or were there more? Something told him he wasn’t alone. He held his breath. Did he hear someone else breathing? Something wasn’t right. He knew he should feel more scared, but for some reason he wasn’t. Maybe it was the adrenaline? Maybe he really was a warrior.

>

BLOOD RED

DARKNESS

BLOOD RED

DARKNESS

New shadows made them even more misshapen and horrifying. Smiling, yet somehow still in agony. Their eyes followed Pat with every step. He inched closer, feeling that same pull from earlier drawing him to the man with the dagger. He was feet away now, completely surrounded by the group of figures. Pat couldn’t take his eyes off the man, who looked down on his sacrificial victim with an eerie sense of bloodlust. Pat reached out to the dagger in his hand. Only inches away now, he saw the ring back on the man’s finger! The light of the exit sign flickered off the green hue of the stone. He touched the handle of the dagger. It was ice cold. Impossibly cold. Pat felt the chill creep up his arm, through his shoulders, and into his chest. The cold was so concentrated in the heavy ring it felt like a beacon above his heart. He pulled at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The man’s grip seemed to only get tighter. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t free it from his hand. Frustration mounting, Pat wrapped both hands around the handle and pulled with all of his strength like a perverse Sword in the Stone. His eyes moved up to the face of the man, who now looked directly at Pat. An inaudible scream emanated from Pat as he fell to the floor, just as the glow of the exit sign left him in total DARKNESS. The feeling of warm blood began to drip down Pat’s arms. Rapid, excited breaths surrounded him. Building and building. As the RED returned, Pat looked up to see the ritual leader was no longer there. Impossible…

Panic and fear seeped in as the exit sign repeatedly plunged Pat into DARKNESS. Slowly realizing with each return to RED, the heads of the other mannequins all slowly turned their heads to face him. Paralyzed with fear, Pat could do nothing but stare back. From the shadows he heard the slow, steady breaths and rattling growl of an animal stalking its prey. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he felt it in his gut. Then, the clicking of claws on the marble floor behind him.

DARKNESS

BLOOD RED

DARKNESS

BLOOD RED

Now the leader was right in front of Pat! He stared down at him on the ground, unable to move. Pat tried to scream again but nothing came out. The man lifted the dagger, now coated in Pat’s blood. It had become brilliantly black, and the cloudiness had completely faded. Light moved through it like a prism.

The man extended the dagger out and, without breaking eye contact, plunged it into his own chest! Slowly and deliberately, he pulled the knife down to his stomach, separating his ribs. He then reached his other hand into his chest, the ring on his finger glowed green like an amulet. After a moment, he pulled out his bloody, beating heart. Blood dripped down his arm as he held it in the air.

The chanting resumed.

Dropping his heart to his side, the man stepped down from the dais, dagger still in hand. Footsteps followed him across the hall and out into the museum. The room plunged back into DARKNESS.

(Part 1 of 2)

An ornate obsidian knife rests in the hand of an unknown man. Sunlight reflects off the jet-black blade, the jagged edges sparkling like stars in the night. His eyes are transfixed by the intricately carved handle. Unblinking. His jagged, dirt-caked nails trace the precise etchings. He pants, a mix of fear and excitement. His hand grips the handle so tightly the blood drains from his knuckles. He extends it out at arm’s length, trembling slightly as he turns the blade towards his chest. One deep breath. Then another. He looks out at the forest that’s been his home his entire life one last time. He closes his eyes and plunges the knife inward…

*****

Ey, Tití me preguntó

Si tengo muchas novia’

Muchas novia’

Shit. Patli “Pat” Ortiz woke up 23 minutes later than he was supposed to. He was so excited for the overnight trip that he forgot to set his alarm. Instead, he was yanked awake by his brother Abe (real name Abund, but only their abuela called him that) screeching Bad Bunny in the apartment’s tiny, shared bathroom while doing his new morning routine: combing what he calls a mustache and applying aftershave to unshaven cheeks. He could hear his parents chatting with his abuela in the kitchen. The smell of coffee, frijoles, and eggs fried in lard wafting through the air. On a normal school day his mom’s cooking would be the only thing that could get him out of bed. But today was not a normal school day. Today was the annual 7^(th) grade overnight field trip at the Met. It was also Halloween. Pat had been looking forward to this since he was a fifth-grader and his brother came back the next day saying it had been the best night of his life. That probably had more to do with the handjob he claimed he got from Sophie Tremper in the Egyptian Art wing than any of the other activities, but Pat had been waiting for his turn ever since.

Still in bed, Pat rolled over, using his pillow to muffle “SHUT UP!”

Ever since Abe started high school, he’d been insufferable. “These high school chicks, man. You just don’t get it. Something happens to these white girls when they get to high school. It’s a whole different world.” So yeah, Abe was the worst. But he was also the only insight Pat had into the experiences that awaited him. His dad was always too busy or too tired to talk to him, and Pat would rather die than talk to his mom about girls. So, Abe it was.

Pat made his way into the kitchen, bedhead still in full form, just in time to catch his dad running out the door, coffee thermos in hand. “Have a great time on your field trip, mijo! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” His dad was always saying that, but Pat had no idea what he meant. He figured it was something dads just say.

“You got it!” Pat yelled back, but his dad was already out the door.

He plopped down into a chair next to his abuela at their kitchen table and his mom put a plate of food down in front of him, immediately turning back to the stove. “Big day today. Make sure you’re not going with an empty stomach.” Pat rolled his eyes to his abuela who responded with a kind look and quiet encouragement.

“Eat, Patli. A crop without sun feeds no one,” she said as she heaped more food on his plate. His abuela was always talking in riddles, mostly about how he needed to eat more or he’d die. Sometimes they rhymed. He loved her, but that didn’t stop him from getting annoyed.

He picked up his fork as Abe strolled into the room still humming the song from earlier. “Enough with the Bad Bunny!” their mother begged without turning around.

“Sorry for having pride in our heritage?” Abe responded.

“He’s Puerto Rican, you idiot. We’re Mexican!” Pat barely got the words out before his abuela swatted at this hand.

“We’re Mayan, Patli. Your dad is Mexican. And don’t call Abund an idiot, even when he’s being one. There aren’t many of us left. We need to stick together,” she said.

For some reason, she always got a weird look in her eyes when she talked about their Mayan heritage. When Patli was younger she had told him a story about an ancestor of theirs who had cut his own heart out of his chest as a sacrifice for his family. Pat barely slept for weeks after that. Even now, he’d occasionally wake up in a sweat after dreaming of the man with a still-beating heart in his hand.

“And tomorrow is Día de Los Muertos!” his abuela continued as she pointed to the calendar on the wall behind her. “It’s no time to dishonor your family.” Pat ate breakfast beneath the brightly painted Mayan calendar every day, but rarely gave it much attention. Today he found himself entranced. He traced the

serpentine carvings that encircled the heavy round block of wood. His eyes locked with those of the ghoulish figure at the center, who seemed to be looking right back at him. Almost through him. How had he never noticed this before? A chill went down his spine. He wanted to look away but couldn’t. Why couldn’t he move? Fear began to creep through him, then panic. Then relief as the trance was graciously broken by his abuela clearing her throat next to him. AGHEM.

“Uhh of course, Abuelita. I’m sorry,” Pat said as he shook off the strangeness of the moment before.

“Good. It’s ok to be nervous about your big field trip, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to be rude,” she said while diving back into her breakfast. The fried eggs were splattered with so much hot sauce it looked like a crime scene. With each bite, little bits of egg whites stuck to the corners of her mouth and drops of hot sauce speckled her cheeks. Watching his abuela eat was a gruesome sight.

“If you really are afraid for how the night will go,” she continued, “I do have something that should bring you courage.” She rummaged around her pockets.

As a 12-year-old boy, Pat was forbidden from admitting he was afraid of anything. “I’m not afraid,” he insisted. No one was convinced.

“Of course not,” she responded kindly, “but if you were, that would be ok too. Even our most heroic ancestors were not without fear. These were warriors famous for their courage! They just had to find a motivation greater than the fear. Their love for their families and the pride they knew they brought them gave them strength. Sometimes they were given a token to remind them of that. Ah here it is.”

She must have checked every pocket twice before finally finding the leaden ring. The shimmer of the biggest green gem Pat had ever seen was the first thing that caught his eye. It had to be fake. His abuela never wore jewelry and most of what his mom wore she had made herself. Last year, Pat had to beg his mom to get him a simple chain when the other boys started wearing them. It made his neck green, but that didn’t stop him from wearing it.

Did his abuela just have jewels she never told them about? She handed him the ring. It was even heavier than it looked. From a distance it had looked metallic, but upon closer inspection he realized it was actually made of stone. It must have been an antique. Pat examined the engravings on the band. Once distinct, they had been smoothed with time. On one side was a sun – on the other, a crude skull.

“My father gave me this.” She opened her mouth to say more, paused, then decided against it. After a moment, she thoughtfully added, “Whenever I’ve felt lost or scared, or alone, I look at this and remember my family. As long as you have your family, you are never alone. Remember that, Patli.”

He felt the weight of it in his hand. “Yes, Abuelita. Thank you so much for this.” Pat knew she meant well, but it had clearly been a long time since she was in 7^(th) grade. There was not a chance in hell he was wearing this around his classmates. As incredible as the stone was, Pat’s daily goal at school was to get as little attention as possible. A giant sparkling ring would not help with that.

Pat smiled at her as he got up from the table. Turning to head out to the bus, he looped the ring onto his necklace and tucked it under his shirt.

As if she could see right through him, she added, “Be proud of who you are, Patli.”

******

Pat leapt up the stairs of the bus, turned the corner, and immediately glued his eyes to the floor as he walked to the back. He passed his ancient teacher Mrs. Meyhew on the left who marked his attendance and the chaperones Mrs. Carpenter and Mr. Berkowitz on the right, both recently divorced though not from each other. The two were engaged in a deep conversation and barely looked up at him as he went by. Pat made it to the back and took his seat next to his best friends, Ben and Devon. “Dude you’re going to eat shit one of these days. You know Catherine isn’t going to know you like her just because you make eye contact, right?” Ben greeted him with a laugh.

“Well, she will if you don’t keep your voice down, asshole.” Pat replied sheepishly. “He’s not wrong,” Devon added in support.

“Yeah, well neither am I!” Ben replied. “The guy has been in love with her since we were in first grade and he can still barely look at her. If tonight’s going to be the night we’ve been talking about for years, he’s going to have to nut up. My brother told me girls love confidence.” Ben’s older brother Nate was a freshman at NYU and had always been the cool older brother Pat wished Abund could be. Hanging at Ben’s hadn’t felt quite the same since he moved into the dorms.

“This is also true,” said Devon, ever the conciliator. “Amari told me that’s why girls always go for older guys. They have more confidence having already done all the stuff. Though I guess that doesn’t really help us out now…”

“Didn’t Nate say you don’t know if you’re a real man until you’ve been in a fight?” Pat added. “He said you don’t know who you are until you’ve been punched in the face… and punched back.”

“Why are you quoting my brother like he’s some source of wisdom? I’ve seen the guy shit his pants on no less than four family road trips. Do you know how high a ratio that is to how many road trips we’ve taken? It’s batshit.”

As the bus approached the Met, the three were interrupted by Mrs. Meyhew standing up to address the class. “Alright kids I know how excited you all are for the Halloween, but that does not give you the excuse to be little lunatics and cause absolute mayhem in there. I intend to be invited back next year and I will not have our school thought of across this city as unruly. At all times you will listen to myself, Mr. Berkowitz, Mrs. Carpenter, and our guides from the museum. Is that understood?”

Mrs. Meyhew was met with a meager, yet near unison “Understood”. That was with the exception of perpetual asshole, Billy Thompson, who alone yelled “Understood this dick!” then laughed his ass off with his little crew of cronies. Meyhew either didn’t hear him or more likely stopped caring years ago and moved on. The kids all stood, grabbed their backpacks and sleeping bags, and giddily deboarded the bus.

*****

Pat, Ben, and Devon walked into the Great Hall with the rest of their class. Mrs. Meyhew had them stand to the side and shuffled over to a ticket counter adorned with expensive but dated Halloween decorations. Pat stared up at the domed roof. This much space felt like a luxury compared to his tiny, cramped apartment in this giant, cramped city. For a second he allowed himself to daydream about the potential this night could have for him and imagined about the different version of himself that could walk out these doors the next day. He fantasized about staying up late with the cool kids playing Truth or Dare or Seven Minutes in Heaven and how he would finally tell Catherine how he felt. If all went according to plan, he’d leave tomorrow having had his first kiss.

The fantasy was interrupted by none other than Billy who ran his shoulder into Pat’s back, knocking him to the ground. “Watch where you’re going, douchebag.” Billy said with a laugh.

“I wasn’t even moving. I was literally just standing here.” Pat replied as he was helped to his feet by Ben and Devon. Ben moved to give Billy a shove but backed down when his cronies stepped to his side. The boys had gotten the attention of Catherine and a group of girls nearby. Some let out nervous giggles, others kept their eyes glued to their phones, but Catherine just looked on sympathetically as Pat dusted himself off. Pat looked up and their eyes met. He immediately turned a bright shade of red and looked anywhere but at her. Catherine did the same while tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Mrs. Meyhew walked back over to the group with two equally ancient tour guides. They both looked like they had worked at the Met since it opened. “Attention please! Attention please!” Meyhew summoned the kids. CRACK CRACK she snapped impossibly loud, the sound echoing off the high walls. It silenced the remaining murmurs from the group. Eyes whipped up from phones to her. “Class I’d like to introduce you to Shirley and Fred. They will be our guides tonight at the Met and I expect you to treat them with the same level of respect and deference you do to me.” Giggles from the class were silenced with a stern look from Meyhew. She continued, “Shirley and Fred know this museum better than anyone and you will give them your focus and attention. To help with that we will also be collecting your phones so you

can learn more about the museum and less about whatever the latest TikTok trend is.” Interrupting the groans she added, “Don’t worry you’ll get them back in the morning. Be present! If any of you need to call your parents, you can come and find me or your chaperones and ask to use our phones. Ok let’s count off 1’s and 2’s and break into groups for the day.”

The boys filed into the line of kids forming, making sure to have one person between them all. Pat frantically tried to look ahead to see if Catherine was going to a 1 or a 2. In a perfect world she’d be in his group and Billy the Dick would be in the other.

1

2

1

2

1

2

Shit.

Barely 20 minutes in and the trip was already not going according to Pat’s plan. Now he wouldn’t get to see her until dinner and to make matters worse, Billy was placed in their group. The only bright side was that he and his cronies were too dumb to stagger themselves and got split up. They had numbers on him if nothing else.

The two groups separated, each heading to opposite wings of the museum. Mrs. Meyhew and Fred led Catherine’s group, while Pat’s group had Shirley and the parent chaperones who continued to be more interested in talking with each other than interacting with any of the kids (including their own). Just outside the Great Hall, Shirley showed them where they could drop their bags and change into their costumes if they wanted to wear them around for the day. No way in hell Pat, Ben, and Devon decided after quickly surveying the room and seeing the cool kids were staying put. Some of the less socially competent kids rushed to put on their costumes. Devon was the most tempted to join them, but a quick look from Ben and Pat dissuaded him of that. After a few minutes, Fred brought the kids back together to start their tour.

“Students! AGHEM. Students please make your way over here!” he half-shouted, though it looked like it took all of his energy to even reach that volume. Pat thought Mrs. Meyhew was old, but if she had one foot in the grave, Fred had two. He let out a mucus-filled cough into a brown splotchy handkerchief that may have been white in the 80s. AGHEM. Each cough sounded like it rattled his ribs as if one hard cough could snap them in half and burst out of his chest.

“Students if you are ready, please follow me. We have a brand new exhibit here at the Met courtesy of Mexico’s National Council for Culture and Arts. Your class will be the first group who gets to see it. Some of the items you’ll see on display today were found as recently as this summer! Girls, there’s some incredible jewelry you may particularly like. I’ll point it out to you. This is likely the most extensive collection of Mayan artifacts in the world! It truly is a treat.” Fred said before taking a break to catch his breath and letting out a few phlegmy coughs. Pat blushed at the mention of jewelry, checking to make sure the ring was safely tucked away. Ben nudged Pat and gave him a smile, acknowledging his Mayan connection.

“So, you’ll know all this stuff already, yeah? We can ignore the boomer?” Ben asked.

“I mean, my abuela has told me some stuff. But I’m never sure how much is true and how much she’s just trying to scare me. She likes to do that sometimes.” Pat shuddered as the thought of his nightmare sent a chill down his spine. “She mostly tells me the same story about an ancestor of ours she said sacrificed himself by cutting his heart out of his own chest…”

“What the fuck??” Billy said, eavesdropping. “So, your ancestors were a bunch psycho monsters? I figured you came from savages given that haircut, but Jesus Christ.”

Pat’s face flushed red, and he instinctively matted down his hair. He dropped his hands to his side, clenching his fists. Anger spreading throughout his entire body.

“Oh did I make you angry? You wanna do something about it?” Billy continued, stepping towards Pat. Since his growth spurt last year, he towered over the rest of the boys. Pat looked up at him with hate in his eyes, but after a moment looked away and backed away. “Yeah that’s what I thought,” Billy added, laughing as he turned and walked away.

“You just have to ignore him,” Devon told Pat. “Besides, he’s one to talk about families. I’m pretty sure his parents are first cousins.” Pat couldn’t help but crack a smile and unclenched his fists.

“Nah that’s not right,” Pat replied with a smirk. “I’m pretty sure they’re brother and sister.”

*****

Seemingly using his cough as sonar, Fred led the group into the dimly lit hall housing the Mayan exhibit. Fake torches lined the walls. With each flicker they cast otherworldly shadows, specters dancing across the room. Against one wall was a line of glass cases containing obsidian tools, masks featuring looks in varying stages of agony, and a stone tablet with indiscernible symbols and glyphs carved in rows. On the other side was a roped off display of incredibly life-like human figures performing some sort of ritual. To the side of them was a jaguar that looked so real it was like it could pounce at any moment. It extended a clawed paw and exposed fangs the size of Pat’s thumbs. He walked over to the platform to get a closer look.

At the center was a man lying on his back atop a large stone table. His head rested flat against the table, staring at the ceiling, so Pat couldn’t make out his face. What he could see were the faces of the men who surrounded him. The light of the torches seemed to make their appearances change from moment to moment, each looking increasingly deranged. The lines etched deep in their cheeks as they smiled wildly. There were four of them, each at a corner of the table where they held down one of the man’s limbs. All had broad shoulders and long, jet-black hair. The sinew in their wiry arms bulged beneath simple cotton cloaks tied around their necks. Besides that, they wore only loincloths.

All except for the man standing alone at the head of the table. He seemed to be some kind of chief or priest. The exhibit panel called him “Ah Kin.” He wore brightly colored ceremonial clothing and held a large obsidian dagger in his hand. The black of the blade looked cloudier than Pat had remembered seeing in his textbook. Maybe it was just dusty in the room. Then, Pat noticed something on the hand gripped in the knife. On the man’s right index finger was a stone ring with a brilliant green jewel that looked exactly like the ring his abuela gave him! Seemingly simultaneous to him spotting it, he felt an

intense pain at the center of his chest. His skin felt like it was on fire. He grabbed at it immediately, feeling the ring between his fingers. The moment he lifted it away from his skin the pain dissipated instantly. It left so quickly, he questioned whether he had imagined feeling it at all. This was too wild to be true. He squinted for a closer look. He could almost make out the engravings on the side of the band. One did look like a skull. What a crazy coincidence.

He looked back at the man’s face, focusing on his grotesque smile. Pat had never seen one look so full of pain. It felt unnatural. As horrifying as the other men were, nothing compared to the crazed look in his eyes. Pat couldn’t help but stare into them, completely hypnotized. For a moment, the room completely faded away and Pat’s ears were filled with a low, rhythmic chanting like the sound of a drum but somehow made by human voices. BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM. Pat felt as if he was falling into a trance, tracing every line on the man’s face. His smile filled with wild terror and excitement. Pat felt paralyzed. He wanted to leave, but his legs wouldn’t move. The chanting getting louder and louder in his ears.

“Why is it so dark in here? This shit is creepy,” Ben whispered. Although quiet, this seemed to snap Pat out of his state. He looked to his friend with gratitude, though he couldn’t articulate what had just happened to him.

“Maybe that’s the point? It’s Halloween after all!” Devon replied genuinely.

“Ehh maybe they’re just cheap. Can save money on the electricity. Whenever we go somewhere like this, all my dad can talk about is how big their energy bill must be,” Ben countered.

Both boys were oblivious to the look on Pat’s face. All color drained from his cheeks. Before he could attempt to explain what had happened, Fred summoned the kids to the display. He took a deep, wheezy breath and braced himself against the wall as he prepared to deliver his spiel.

“Ok kids, eyes up here please. You might find this interesting! The Mayans are one of the most fascinating and confounding civilizations we’ve ever discovered. The abandonment of Maya cities is one of the greatest unsolved mysteries in archaeology. Large, elaborate urban centers were mystifyingly deserted without a trace. But why? Leading archaeologists have a host of conflicting theories. One I’ve always liked describes the years before collapse as being dominated by ‘theater-states.’ Having lost practical control, the ruling elite, or Holy Lords, were relatively hands-off with respect to the economy and daily function of their communities. To maintain power, they legitimized their political and religious authority through elaborate rituals and monumental constructions. Each individual city-state would compete to build taller and more ornate temples, costumes, sacred objects. As stability waned, they resorted to increasingly extreme rituals of body mutilation and human sacrifice—like the one you see displayed in the exhibit behind me. Those who performed the most horrifying and maximal rituals were held in the highest esteem among their peers. In one of the most powerful states, it was said that their leader would pull a barbed rope through their tongue, gushing as much blood as possible without being fatal. We felt that was a bit too intense for this exhibit, heh. In many states, the removal of a still beating heart became a common form of human sacrifice in the Postclassic period. They would offer the heart to the gods alongside the mutilated body, usually dismembered or burned. Despite the brutality, it was seen as a moment of great honor for the individual sacrificed. However, the dedication of resources for such elaborate productions was highly taxing. Depleted resources alongside a severe drought are the most likely factors that led to the complete collapse of this culture – leaving it to disappear from the world with little to no trace.”

Pat tried everything he could not to look at the priest in the display while Fred spoke. He couldn’t explain why, but his eyes felt magnetically drawn to him. No matter how hard he tried, his head turned back to face his unhinged eyes. As he moved across the room, it was almost as if the eyes were following him. The chanting rising again in his ears. His eyes darted around to see if anyone else could hear it, but all he saw were oblivious, if not slightly bored, looks. Was he going crazy? How was he the only one who felt this? It was almost too much to bear. The drumbeat in his ears getting louder and louder, like a beating heart about to explode out of his chest. And then, relief. Light from the hall washed over the group as Fred opened the curtain and led them out of the hall. The drumming in Pat’s ears quieted, but did not fade entirely.

*****

Pat should have been exhausted from the full day walking around the Met, but he felt a surge of energy as the two groups came back together for dinner. Now closed for the night, the kids had the museum entirely to themselves. Despite his excitement, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something slightly discomforting about being there after hours. In his experience in the massive space, he had always been surrounded by lights and noisy visitors. Now it was dark and eerily quiet. The other students must have felt it too, most of them whispered despite there being no need to keep their voices down. Every small sound echoed throughout the hall. Even his own breath seemed to bounce off the walls and come back to him, like ghosts breathing in his ears.

Mrs. Meyhew set out pizza boxes and paper plates with help from Shirley and Fred. Mrs. Carpenter and Mr. Berkowitz had snuck off 15 minutes ago under the guise of setting up a Halloween activity for the class. Pat surveyed the room looking for Catherine. He spotted her standing with a group of her friends, all having already changed into their costumes. Catherine wore a tiara and a pink dress splattered with fake blood. It must have been a reference to something. Pat wasn’t sure what. Whatever it was, it was mesmerizing.

“Why the shit aren’t we wearing our costumes?” Pat asked Ben and Devon. Devon raised his arms exasperatedly like I said this hours ago!

Ben laughed. “Ok loverboy let’s go put them on. But let’s do it quick because I want to get pizza before all we’re left with is veggie.” The three of them walked over to the next room to grab their bags and quickly changed into their costumes – Mike, Dustin, and Lucas from Stranger Things. When they got back to the Main Hall the kids had all lined up to grab pizza. Spotting Catherine at the end of the line, Pat motioned for the boys to hurry up. Just as they walked up, she turned around to face them.

“Wow love your costumes guys! This season was so good. So much scarier than season 3. I can’t believe we have to wait until next year for more episodes. It’s going to feel like forever!” Catherine’s smile could have knocked Pat out. For a second he stood there too stunned by her attention to speak. Ben elbowed him in the ribs to bring him back to reality.

“I, uh, love your costume too!” he said a little too loud. Catherine’s smile grew even wider thinking he knew the reference. Too late to walk it back now, he took a chance. “It’s, uh, one of my favorite… movies?”

“Really?! You’re the first person besides Mrs. Meyhew and Shirley to know I was Carrie! Finally, someone with good taste in horror movies,” Catherine said excitedly.

Was this actually happening? Pat could not believe this was going so well. The shocked looks on Devon and Ben’s faces said the same. “How could I not know Carnie? It’s a classic!” Ben added. Catherine didn’t seem to catch him flub the name. He looked at her costume searching for more to talk to her about. “These new horror movies, uh, aren’t nearly as bloody as the classics?”

“Right? Wow I’ve always said that but you’re the first person I’ve heard say the same. Maybe we could hang out and do a horror movie marathon?” Catherine said excitedly, before immediately feeling insecure about the display of vulnerability. “If you want that is,” she added sheepishly.

Pat stood there, mouth agape. “I, uh, would love that!” This new level of confidence puffing his chest out a bit. Was he going to do this right now? He added, “You know, I’ve actually always wanted to tell you…”

BUUURRP

Billy stepped in between them, releasing a stomach full of Sierra Mist right in Pat’s face. “Oh, how cute! Mexican Mike Wheeler met his psycho Eleven.” Billy and his cronies laughed. Pat wanted to die. He’d never been more embarrassed or angry. He’d rip Billy’s heart out of his chest if he could. He clenched his fists again at his sides, this time truly preparing himself to swing. Just then, Fred walked up to the group, sensing the tension.

“Don’t worry boys there’s plenty of pizza for everyone. And besides, this isn’t how we settle conflict. You know in the Mayan culture they would play a ball game to resolve disputes between rival cities. Sometimes this would be a proxy for war to spare unnecessary bloodshed. The Mayans saw this as a battle between the gods of death and the gods of life. The game in and of itself was a reminder of the Hero Twins, who overcame death and became demi-gods themselves. It’s said all Mayan people alive today descend from their lines.” Fred gave Pat a sly wink as he walked away.

“You hear that? Don’t test me. We wouldn’t want any unnecessary bloodshed.” This may have been the coolest thing Pat had ever said. No, it was definitely the coolest thing he’d ever said. He felt like he was in a movie. Ben and Devon couldn’t believe their eyes. Billy, being stood up to for possibly the first time in his life, was too shocked to come up with anything good in response.

“Well, uh, fuck you, you chode. Hah. Bunch of losers,” Billy said as he tucked his tail and walked away with his buddies.

Catherine beamed at Pat. He stood taller than he ever had. Devon patted him on the back supportively. Maybe tonight could be everything he had imagined.

*****

An hour after dinner, Mrs. Carpenter and Mr. Berkowitz came back to the Main Hall looking disheveled and told the class the Halloween activity was set up. They were told to break into pairs for a Halloween Met themed scavenger hunt. There would be candy and treats along the way, but the winners alone would get a special prize. Excitement rippled through the kids as they whispered about what it might be.

“I bet it’s a rare artifact! Probably something Egyptian,” one boy exclaimed.

“You really think they’re going to give us an artifact?? We’ll get a replica at best. More likely it’ll be some kind of branded merch they found in the gift shop. Like a poncho,” Ben said matter-of-factly. He turned to Pat and Devon. “Ok so how do we want to do this? You think they’ll let the three of us be a team?”

“Uh, sounded like they were pretty strict about us being in pairs. Maybe the two of you team up and I could maybe see if Catherine would want to be my partner?” Pat replied.

“Patli, you dog! I have never been prouder of you than I am right now. I know Mexicans and Mayans don’t get to have bar mitzvahs, but in this moment, you are a man. Mazel tov,” Ben said as he hugged his friend.

“They have quinceañeras! Though I guess that’s just for girls, which honestly seems kinda outdated. Someone should say something about that,” Devon added.

“Alright well I guess it’s now or never.” Pat steeled himself and crossed the room to Catherine. “Uh, hey!” He said as he gave her shoulder a poke.

“Hi!” she replied, turning to him. “What’s up?”

“I, uh, well I walked over here to you know. Well Devon and Ben are partnering up for the treasure hunt – well scavenger hunt actually. I guess a treasure hunt has like one prize at the end with a series of clues along the way and a scavenger hunt is more of a quest where you have to find items and complete goals from, like, a list. Shit.” Pat was rambling, but for some reason Catherine seemed to find it endearing. She smiled and quietly giggled, giving Pat the confidence to say what he came to say. “I, uh, wanted to come over here and ask if you had a partner and if not if you’d want to be mine?” Ok he did it. He told himself no matter what she said, he was just happy he had the courage to ask. That wasn’t true at all, but it’s

what he told himself in the moment.

“Oh that is so, so nice! I really would want to, but I already told Sarah I’d be her partner. I’m sorry Pat, it really would be so fun to go hunt for treasure together.” The joke softened the blow, but Pat was no less dejected.

“Oh yeah of course that’s no problem at all. Totally get it. Know you and Sarah go way back so totally makes sense.” He knows they go way back? Why would he even say that? They’d all gone to school together since kindergarten. They all went equally back. “Guess I should find a partner so I can win that special prize. And destroy you! I mean destroy the competition! Which is you, but also others. Ok gotta go!” Pat turned as quickly as he could and bolted away.

Catherine, also flustered by the interaction, yelled out, “Not if the competition destroys you first!”

Back with Ben and Devon, he debriefed them on the conversation. “Well that went fucking terrible. Of course she partnered with Sarah, what was I thinking? They’ve been best friends since they were in diapers. I am a moron.”

“Hey man you tried! That’s more than a lot of guys would do,” Ben consoled his friend. “Plus now the three of us can be a team just like we’re meant to.” CRACK CRACK. The boys jumped as Mrs. Meyhew’s snaps echoed through the Main Hall.

“Alright kids has everyone formed a pair? We’ll start the scavenger hunt in a minute.” Her eyes scanned the crowd, spotting Pat, Ben, and Devon standing together. “Boys have I failed you as an English teacher? Do we not know the meaning of the word ‘pair’?” Giggles emerged from the class as she turned her attention to Billy also standing with his two friends. “It seems this concept was harder to grasp than I thought. Ok boys a pair is a group of two. I see six of you so let’s do some quick math here and split into three groups.” The boys didn’t move. “Ok it sems you need a bit more help. Pat and Billy, you two are now partners. Now let’s please get this started. It’s already nearly my bedtime.”

Pat couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. It was 8:30pm. He begrudgingly walked over to Billy who was staring daggers at him.

“Boys is there going to be a problem?” Mrs. Meyhew asked, her teacher’s intuition in full effect. “Nope!” the boys said in unison.

*****

They were nearly done with the scavenger hunt and had managed not to kill each other. Despite everything, the fun of the game and their competitiveness had made them enjoy themselves. But that didn’t mean they were friends.

“Ok Patricia just one thing left to find on our list. Let’s hurry up and finish this.”

“Trust me, nothing would make me happier than to get to stop hanging out with you,” Pat responded.

“Oh yeah because I’m having a great time with you! When I left home this morning, I remember saying I hope I can spend two hours of my night one-on-one with the biggest loser in New York. Let’s just get this over with already. The only room we have left is the Mayan exhibit. Let’s return you to your homeland.”

The mention of the Mayan exhibit sent a chill down Pat’s spine. The drumming returned to his ears. Was anyone else hearing this? Was it just the sound of his own heart beating? No, he was sure he heard chanting in the distance, but no one else seemed to notice. “It’s, uh, this way I think,” Pat said as he pointed down the hallway. As they walked, their footsteps echoed across the large, empty room. The sound of the other students had disappeared completely, yet it sounded like there were more than just the two of them walking through the hall. Pat’s eyes searched the darkness for others present. He did not feel alone. His legs trembled as he felt fear spread through his body. Did that shadow just move? No, he must have imagined that. He told himself his eyes were just playing tricks on him. He spun around, scanning the room for the unseen presence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another shadow move.

“Did you see that??” Pat asked Billy.

“See what? It’s dark as fuck in here,” Billy replied. “Can we keep this moving? This isn’t exactly how I planned to spend my night.”

Pat shook off the unsettling sensation. They arrived at the entrance of the hall and pulled the heavy velvet curtain to the side as they walked through. It shut behind them leaving them in near dark. The two of them were completely alone. The only light in the room came from the flickering torches on the display. Pat’s eyes were drawn to the man holding the dagger at the center. Did he look different than before? Pat could’ve sworn his face had changed. His visage had morphed into an even more monstrous smile. Like he was overjoyed to be delivering such pain. Pat stared at him intently, making his way down his left arm to the hazy obsidian dagger. Wasn’t it in his right hand before? Pat looked for the ring but couldn’t spot it on either of his hands. Pat couldn’t have imagined it, could he?

“Are you going to help me or just stare at your family up there?” Billy asked, his eyes searching the room as he reread the clues on the sheet in his hand.

“Does he look different to you? I could swear the dagger…and his ring…” Pat trailed off as he pointed at the man. He wanted to finish the question but was sure Billy would call him crazy. Hell, Pat would call himself crazy.

“Different from what? Why the fuck would I know? I don’t have a personal relationship with him like you seem to. I wasn’t invited to the reunion,” scoffed Billy. Then something clicked, and he sped over to a display case in the corner. After a few seconds of searching, he found the small card they were looking for. “Got it!”

Pat felt an odd sense of relief and disappointment. Happy he could leave the room, but also a strange kind of melancholy. As the boys departed the hall, a dozen pairs of eyes followed them.

*****