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.”

  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.

  “Mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters — family.”

  Though Lester only saw him once a year, he had no trouble recognizing the distinctive figure of Mr. Noxumbra, head of Council Consulting, Inc.  He was a slender man with delicate features, a long face that perpetually sported a pair of dark sunglasses, and wavy hair that matched his black suit and tie.

  “We all know why we are here and the importance of this day,” Noxumbra continued, once he was sure all eyes were upon him.  He spoke slowly, taking his time to pronounce each word, as though he had nowhere to go and all the time in the world to get there.  “One might look up night after night, gazing at the brightness of the moon, never to realize it only shows us one face.  One side, as it were.  This does not make it less of a wonder.  Instead, it acts as an everlasting reminder that there is value in the unseen, wisdom in the unknown — beauty in the imperfect.”

   There was a round of polite applause from the finely dressed adults in attendance.  

  Lester scanned the room, looking for his parents.  He knew he shouldn’t be watching, but part of him felt relieved and, if he was being honest, perhaps a bit disappointed by the mundaneness of it all.  Was this it?  Was the Drawing-In ceremony just a colorful speech, shrouded in metaphors, followed by cake?    

  “As we gather each year, we remember what those who came before us knew all too well.  A tree’s rings show only how it grows, not what it becomes.  And that even the most virtuous man must cast a shadow.”  Mr. Noxumbra straightened.  “Now, if Bernard North would please present himself.”

  The crowd shuffled aside, creating an aisle down the middle of the hall, and began to clap as the unmistakable silhouette of Lester’s brother stepped forward.

  Lester had seen Bernard take an elbow to the face on the soccer field, only to get up, bloodied but unbowed, and charge straight back into the fray.  Playing sports, hanging out with friends, even talking to adults, Bernard moved with confidence and ease.  However, when it came to public speaking, Lester knew his brother would gladly endure several more broken noses before having to recite a memorized text in front of a crowd.

  Looking out from his hiding spot, Lester watched Bernard move slowly towards the stage, shaking outstretched hands and returning nods as he went.  He wore a new black suit, the twin to Mr. Noxumbra’s, and when he reached the front, turned to stand beside him.

   The applause died down and was replaced by a long stretch of silence.  Feet shuffled, and throats were cleared, but no one spoke for what seemed like an uncomfortable length of time.  It wasn’t until Lester caught sight of movement in the shadows that he realized they’d all been waiting for something, or more accurately, someone.  

  An impossibly pale, bald man made his way slowly through the crowd, his light blue suit standing out among a sea of grays and blacks.  As he walked, he removed a deck of cards from his pocket and began manipulating them with practiced ease.

  When the man reached Bernard, he stopped.  His head tilted to the side as he studied the young boy’s face and the cards he’d been shuffling flew in a rippling arc from one hand to the other.  Then with a quick flourish, he made the deck disappear, except for a single card, which he held out.

  Lester watched as his brother cautiously took it.  He could tell they weren’t ordinary playing cards, but he was too far away to make out any details.  Whatever they were, Bernard found the one in his hand captivating and failed to notice Mr. Noxumbra’s attempts to gain his attention.

  “Bernard, would you agree that love can do much?” Noxumbra said as though he were an actor trying to prod a partner who’d forgotten their lines.

 Lester felt anxious on his brother’s behalf and waited to see if Bernard would catch the cue.

 “Love can do much,” Bernard finally replied, eyes still glued to the card.  “But duty more.  We dare not terry by the closing door.  For roots are damp beside the creek.  The solemn oak, no council seek.”

  His brother’s voice was practiced but distracted.  The zombie-like delivery aside, Lester was impressed with the clear and steady recitation.  What the poem meant, he had no idea.

  “The task is hard.  The way is stone.  The work is ours.  And ours alone.”  

  While Bernard spoke, a low hum filled the room, and the adults in attendance joined hands.

  “For the kindred house of kith and kin, the bell tolls now.  Time to begin.”

  Here Bernard paused, and Lester saw his brother’s face go pale.  Perhaps he wasn’t as relaxed as he seemed.  Maybe his nerves had finally gotten the better of him.  But then Bernard’s face went from pale to white, and Lester shaded his eyes as he watched it disappear entirely in an increasing glow.  

  The humming had been steadily growing in volume and was now so loud Lester could barely make out his brother’s next words over the sound.

  “The strongest blades are born of fire.  Become the spark.  Strike the pyre!”

  Lester squinted, straining to keep Bernard in view.  He caught sight of him again for a brief moment, standing in the middle of the brightening bloom, still transfixed by the card in his hand.  A card that now burned with a white brilliance that enveloped the room.

  Wincing, Lester covered his face for fear of being blinded.  He wanted to call out to Bernard but could barely hear himself think over the deafening roar of the humming as he fell away from the vent onto his back.

  Spots danced through Lester’s vision, and before his eyes could adjust to the darkness of the tunnel, he felt movement beside him.  Images of rats, possums, and rabid raccoons flooded his mind.  He was about to lash out when something heavy crashed onto his chest.

  “Found you!” squealed the mustached five-year-old. 

  “Yes,” gasped Lester, unsure which would give out first, his lungs or his racing heart.  “Yes, you did.”

  Regaining his breath, Lester slid the boy off and peered back through the vent, only to find the main hall looking perfectly normal.  There was no light.  No humming.  Just Mr. Noxumbra shaking Bernard’s hand as a large grin spread across his brother’s face. 

  Mrs. North stepped out from the crowd, slipped something around Bernard’s neck, and then hugged him.  His brother took a small bow, and the adults clapped their approval.

  Behind Bernard, Lester saw the pale man shake his head as he spoke into Mr. Noxumbra’s ear.  Noxumbra gave a solemn nod in return and then, much to Lester’s horror, turned to stare straight at the vent.

  “Good hiding place, Lester,” whispered the boy at his side.  “They’ll never find us in here.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Lester replied, the tunnel going dark as he carefully slid the flaps of the vent closed.  “They might.”

Sitting on a hard metal folding chair, Lester watched the long line of people scooping food out of mismatched cookware.  He looked down at the lonely dinner roll in the middle of the plate resting on his knees.  By the time he’d uncovered his third batch of cold sliced ham and baked beans, Lester had decided to settle for bread and butter.  He wasn’t that hungry anyway.  

  There had been no chance to think about what he’d seen through the vent, as the other kids had quickly found him, no doubt guided by his mustached companion’s uncontrollable giggles.  By the time Amanda had helped Lester extract everyone from the tunnel, they’d all been called into the main hall for dinner.

  Now, sitting alone among the chattering crowd, the room seemed achingly normal.  Like a bad dream, the bizarre details of the ceremony had faded quickly in the light of day.  The poem, the glow, the humming, while overly theatrical, were all easily achieved with coordination and store-bought parlor tricks.  A little something to add gravity to a mundane initiation, the effect accentuated by Lester’s burgeoning claustrophobia.  It was not dissimilar from what he’d read about ceremonial rites used by groups like the Freemasons, another organization with rumors of less than legitimate activities.  Still, the feeling Lester had seen something he shouldn’t have lingered.

  He scanned the room until he located his parents standing by the stage.  They were both beaming with pride while Bernard shook hands with various well-wishers.  As far as Lester could tell, his brother showed no signs of any lasting effects from his Drawing-In.

  “Wow.  Don’t overdo it, Lester,” Amanda said, sitting down on the chair next to him and eyeing his plate.  

  “I’m just not that hungry,” said Lester.

  “Right.”  Amanda gave him a knowing look.  “Besides, I’m sure that roll was only touched by two or three dozen kids as they pawed over the basket, looking for the perfect one.”

  Lester watched a runny-nosed toddler eat macaroni and cheese straight out of a serving dish, unnoticed by his chatting parents, and set his plate on an empty chair.

  The hall was full of adults, most of whom only saw each other once a year.  They laughed and talked excitedly while holding sagging paper plates piled high with food.  No single conversation  could be heard above the din, and Lester was reminded of the babbling brook sounds his mother used to play to help him fall asleep.  Perhaps it was because family gatherings always made him feel invisible that he didn’t try to stop himself from blurting it out.

  “I saw the Drawing-In ceremony,” he whispered.

  “You what?” Amanda said, half choking on her sandwich.

  Lester waited until she’d managed to swallow and then quietly told her what had happened.  Though her eyes widened at all of the strange details, she did not interrupt.  When he was finished, she sat in silence for a long while.

  “Okay,” Amanda said at last.  “It was a mistake, an accident almost.  And since no one saw you, no harm done.”  She paused when Lester didn’t immediately respond.  “No one saw you, right?”

  “Well —”

  “What!  Who?” asked Amanda.

  “Maybe, Mr. Noxumbra?” said Lester.

  Amanda took in a quick breath and leaned closer.  “Mr. Noxumbra saw you spying on your brother’s Drawing-In ceremony?” she asked, her voice low.

  The worried look on her face filled Lester with worry too.  “I don’t know, maybe?  It was hard to tell.  At one point, he seemed to look right at me.”

  “But you don’t know that he saw you.”

  “No, but —”

  Amanda shushed him and scanned the crowd.  “Alright, listen.  We assume he didn’t see you.  If he had, he would have done something, right?”

  “I guess, but what about all of the other stuff?”

  “Lester, you need to keep your head down and stay quiet about this.  Whatever you think you might have seen pales in comparison to how many Council rules you don’t want to get caught breaking.”

  He knew Amanda was right.  The thought of facing his father and trying to explain his actions  quickly outweighed the need to satisfy his curiosity.  “Okay,” he said.

  Amanda relaxed.  “Good.  Look, you’ll feel a lot better if you eat something.  This barbecue sandwich isn’t half bad.  Try it?”

  “No, thanks,” said Lester.

  “Oh, come on,” she said, holding it out.

  Reluctantly he took a bite, and his mouth instantly watered.  Amanda was right, it was delicious, and before he could stop himself, he was devouring it.

  “Easy,” Amanda said, laughing.  “It’s got a kick to it.  I think it’s the jalapeños.”

  “Sorry,” Lester said, his mouth full, and tried to hand what was left back to her.

  “Um, yeah, no problem.  You keep it.  I’ll get another one.”

  Amanda walked off, and Lester finished the sandwich, licking his fingers clean.  He was trying to get her attention to signal for her to bring him another one when he accidentally locked eyes with Mr. Noxumbra.  Lester quickly looked away and then back again, but his father’s boss was still staring at him.  Lester tried to reassure himself that because of Noxumbra’s ever-present sunglasses, he could have been looking at any number of people.  But that didn’t lessen the feeling of being watched.

  As anxiety overtook him, the noisy hall suddenly seemed way too hot, and Lester felt beads of sweat begin to drip down his back.  His hands went clammy, and his stomach lurched.  Fearing he might vomit, Lester jumped to his feet.  He was about to make a mad dash for the bathroom when he let out the loudest and longest burp of his life.  Relieved and a little embarrassed at the number of heads that had turned, Lester excused himself to those around him and sheepishly sat back down.  He could see Amanda coming his way, carrying two sandwiches and shaking her head.

  As casually as he could, Lester looked back across the room in time to see Mr. Noxumbra slipping out a side door.  As the dour man in black stepped into the night, Lester thought he saw him laughing.