Flock (14 page)

Even Marik’s spring-to-it-ness went down a notch once my mom arrived. She was in full drill-sergeant mode. And despite most of the workers being volunteers, she kept one and all busy hauling, heaving, and deboxing.

By early evening, we were sufficiently unpacked to eat takeout Chinese on plates — real, from-the-cabinet chinaware — while seated at the dining-room table. With the discarded to-go boxes pushed to the center of the table, I passed out our cookie-spun fortunes. The doorbell rang, and Stanley, the eager new man of the house, sprang up to answer it.

“Mine says, ‘Adventure is around the bend,’” I said, ripping the paper in half.

“What does yours say, Marik?” my mom asked.

“‘One’s happiness spells another’s discontent,’” Marik said.

“I think it’s safe to assume Abby will be the happy one, even with losing her chauffeur job. She gets what she wants, I hear,” Jinky said.

“Am I interrupting?”

I looked up to discover Penny standing with Stanley under the archway to the dining room. She looked hurt and embarrassed, with her eyes downcast and her arms clutching a foil-covered plate to her chest.

I looked quickly at the scene. For all appearances, it was a party she had not been invited to. I felt awful and popped to a stand.

“Of course not,” I said. “Marik and Jinky saw the truck pull up earlier and just fell in step with the work crew.”

“I made cookies as a housewarming gift, but I see you’ve already had dessert,” Penny said, eyeing the cookie wrappers scattered across the table.

She had to have heard what Jinky said about Abby getting what she wants: Marik, in this case. Penny’s colorless cheeks and halting tone hinted at as much. Crap. Why had Jinky said that? The strength of feeling was on Abby’s side. To Marik, we were all a source of curiosity and entertainment, I guessed, one as interchangeable as the next.

“So, I told you about my new room, right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Penny said, her voice still faltering.

“Let me show you. It’s the best thing about this place.”

Behind me on the stairs, I could hear the
fwomp fwomp
of her Keds, as if they too had had the air let out of them.

Once we were up in the space,
my
space, I finally sensed a slight shift in her mood.

“So this
is
cool,” she said, looking around.

Even with a bare mattress, no curtains, and a jumble of boxes, the space oozed potential.

I didn’t believe in letting things fester; my approach, like stain removal, was to treat immediately. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No. I guess not. It just kind of looked like a party.”

“Party? Hardly. I scrubbed toilets, and Jack went after some serious cobwebs in the basement. And Jinky and Marik coming over was entirely spontaneous. I mean, seriously, why they even volunteered is beyond me.”

“I would have helped if you’d asked,” Penny said.

“Is that what this is really about? About missing out on washing windows and sweeping floors? Or was it the company?”

Exhaling, Penny’s head dropped forward. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

“No. Of course not.”

“It’s useless, anyway. I heard what Jinky said. It wasn’t a complete surprise, I mean, it’s obvious that Abby has her hooks in him. And she pretty much
does
get what she wants. And no big secret whose name she’ll be feeding to the Asking Fire.”

The Asking Fire. Ugh. A local tradition that took place the Saturday prior to Homecoming. Girls fed the name of their hoped-for date to a supposedly mystical bonfire. OK, so it had kind of worked for Jack and me last year, but I didn’t believe there was enough magic in all the realms to transform Marik into the right guy for Penny.

“He’s an exchange student,” I said. “Temporary. So maybe it’s best.”

“I know, but I can’t help it. I really like the guy.”

Footsteps on the stairs brought the conversation to an end.

“Your mom sent me up with a load,” Jinky said, entering with a laundry basket full of my sheets and blankets. She set the linens on my mattress, all the while surveying Penny oddly.

“I should read your runes,” she said finally.

“My what?” Penny asked.

“Your runes,” Jinky said. “I mentioned them briefly during our project summary. They’re an ancient system of divination. In the right hands, they have magical properties: fortune-telling and psychic knowledge.”

“Uh. No, thanks,” Penny said with the kind of hesitation that would indicate that she saw this on par with drawing pentagrams on the floor or beheading a chicken. She was probably also still smarting from having the project topic snatched away from her like a cat toy on a string.

“Don’t worry; it doesn’t hurt a bit,” Jinky said. “And I won’t charge you, because I sense an important turning point in your life, one you should be prepared for. Kat, do you have your runes?”

Penny looked at me like Jinky had just asked me for my wand and spell book.

“They’re a bag of stones I got from Jack’s grandmother,” I said to Penny by way of explanation. I turned to Jinky. “As if I could find them in this mess.”

“Next time I’ll bring my own,” Jinky said, running her thumb along her bottom lip. “This could be very interesting.”

Again Penny’s eyes flared wide. The sound of my mom calling from the first-floor landing brought all talk of fortune-telling to an end, but I couldn’t help but notice that Penny lingered, following behind me and Jinky as if taking an opportunity to view us with fresh eyes.

There were times when my mom’s work ethic was tolerable, beneficial even. Sunday after the move was not one of those occasions. She was in full manic mode with a goal of being “out of boxes” by sundown.

I was relieved to have a shift at the store as a hall pass on another day of labor and even a little sorry for Stanley, who gave me a small help-me bulging of his eyes as I headed out the door.

I opened up as scheduled but was surprised when, a half hour later, a slightly listing Afi came through the door.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said.

“You’re not,” I replied. “You’re a day early, actually. You had today off. Remember?”

Afi scratched at his chin. “Nope.”

“You wanted to get the leaves raked up in your yard.”

“Damn things,” Afi said. “It’s like this every . . .”

“Fall,” I finished for him when he appeared to have lost his train of thought.

“Just a small one,” Afi said. “Someone moved my ottoman again.”

I blinked my eyes. At this rate, we’d need orange cones and a traffic cop for all the detours this conversation was taking.

“You fell?”

Afi backhanded the air in front of him. “Pshaw. And don’t go blabbing to that mother of yours. She’ll make a fuss, and I don’t want it or need it.” A hacking cough punctuated his spirited remarks.

I might have pursued the topic except a beat-up green truck rolled to a stop in one of the parking spots out front. Jack.

I bounced out the front door, meeting him as he planted his old work boots on the pavement. “This is a surprise,” I said. “I thought you had to work today.”

“I do. And am.” He pecked me on the cheek. Afi’s presence at the window was surely the reason for such a chaste greeting. “I’m out on deliveries.”

I followed him to the rear of his truck, where he lowered the back gate.

“That’s no fun,” I said. And judging by the load in the back of his cab, he’d be at it for a long time.

“It never is.” He grabbed a bushel by the handles and started for the store. I scurried ahead and opened the door.

“Good morning,” Jack said, dipping his head to Afi.

“Working on it,” Afi said, snatching an apple off the top of Jack’s delivery and cracking into it with a loud crunch. “Yep. Best darn apples in the county.”

The compliment made Jack smile, sparking the blue in his eyes and tautening the ropy muscles in his neck. “Thank you. My dad never tires of hearing it.”

“Tell you what I’m tired of,” Afi said. “That yappy dog next door barking all hours of the day.” He took off for the front of the store, muttering something about a muzzle.

“Afi’s in rare form today,” Jack said.

“Tell me about it. He wasn’t even scheduled to work. I think he has his days confused. And apparently he fell over that footstool in front of his chair. Should I be worried?”

“Nah,” Jack said. “It’s clear what his problem is.”

“What?”

“He hadn’t had his apple-a-day.”

I gave him a look. “Says the apple peddler.”

“True. And I’ll be peddling these things until at least three. What time do you get off?”

“Three, as it just so happens.”

“I have homework but could get away for an hour or two,” he said, closing the space between us.

“About two hours is all it should take,” Afi said, startling us both and reversing Jack’s course.

“What should take?” I asked.

“Raking up leaves at my place. I sure do appreciate the offer.” Afi clutched at the small of his back. “After that fall, I’m not sure I’m up to all that bending.” His eyes, I noticed, were particularly glassy at that moment.

“Of course,” Jack said. “You shouldn’t be out there. We’d be happy to help.” With his “we,” Jack gave me a small roll of his shoulders.

“Thank you kindly,” Afi said, taking another chomp of the apple and heading back up front.

Passing me, he lifted his eyebrows. Had Jack and I just been conned? If so, I had to hand it to the old codger; he’d managed to turn yesterday’s dupers into dupees. Or just maybe there was something to that old apple-a-day wives’ tale, after all. Either way, Afi looked a little more sure-footed as he walked off.

I wasn’t too put out. A couple hours in Jack’s company on a gorgeous fall day sure beat returning to the sweatshop my mom was currently running. The afternoon had potential. But I still didn’t know if I should worry about Afi, scold him, or thank him.

“We have a breaking story,” Penny said, getting our Monday lunchtime journalism meeting under way. “It seems that our school board and Pinewood’s are voting tonight on the consolidation proposal. If the measure is passed by both boards, it goes to voters in November.”

The room erupted in chatter and cries of surprise. Although Abby’s speech on the first day of school had hinted that the topic was still hot, I’d hoped that my father’s factory and the new businesses along Main Street had brought enough jobs to the area. While there had been a dozen or so new kids last winter, even I knew it obviously wasn’t enough to offset the two schools merging.

“So what does that mean for us?” someone asked.

“It’s not good news,” Penny said. “The two districts hired a consulting firm whose newly released report favored retaining Pinewood’s high-school building and closing ours.”

Jeers and boos ensued. I had always known it was an unpopular topic but was still surprised by the level of animosity.

“We need to cover this,” Penny said, quieting everyone down with waves of her arms. “Plus, it will look good to fill the seats with supporters of Norse Falls. Let’s get out there on Facebook and Twitter to spread the word on the meeting. And then tomorrow we’ll get to work on a special issue. I expect to see you all tonight. Seven p.m.”

As the fashion columnist, I hardly thought my presence was required. Plus, I was a senior; the earliest the actual merge could take place was next fall. “You mean those who do news stories, right?” I interjected.

“Everyone,” Penny said with an odd glint in her eye. “We’re going to attack this from a variety of angles. And if it means touting our cheerleader uniforms over theirs, we’ll do it. Mark my words: If there’s going to be a building put out of service, it isn’t going to be ours.”

Jinky coughed, a big, hacky bark stripper.

The bell rang, and I gathered my things, turning a shoulder on Penny. She’d been a little harsh on me. She, of all people, knew I wasn’t a hard-boiled gonzo journalist like her. She’d been the one to drag me into it, after all.

Jinky waited until the room had emptied, leaving only Penny, me, and her. “So now I have to read your runes more than ever.”

“What? Why?” Penny asked.

“You finished with a prophecy,” Jinky said.

“Hardly a prophecy,” Penny said. “More marching orders. If we get our community rallied, we get more voters to the polls. It’s not too late to turn the tide on this thing.”