Wreath (36 page)

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” Law said.

An unwanted sob came out of Wreath’s throat, and her hand trembled when she brushed tears from her eyes. “I’m just a little tired, I guess.”

“Hey, shhh,” Law said as though speaking to a cranky infant and pulled her up against him. “It’ll be okay.”

“There’s not a problem!” Wreath insisted, but her slurred words lessened the impact of her proclamation.

“We need to get you home. One of the neighbors can drive us.”

“No!” Wreath said, summoning her energy. “I can ride my bike.”

“Then I’m going with you.”

“You can’t!” The vehemence in Wreath’s voice surprised even her, and Law took a step back and held up his hand.

“Calm down,” he said. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just want to take you home. I think you have a fever.”

“You know my cousins don’t like me bringing people over,” Wreath said.

“I won’t go in or anything, but if you think I’m going to let you ride alone late at night and sick …” He shook his head. “Isn’t going to happen.”

Wreath was touched but panicked at how to keep him away from the junkyard. “Don’t you need to study? We have those big social studies reports tomorrow.”

“Nice try. I’ll look over my notes when I get back.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn?” she asked.

Law laughed. “You make me look like a lightweight when it comes to stubborn. You’re absolutely the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Probably the smartest, too, but don’t tell anyone I said that.”

She bent down to pick up her pack. Law was going with her, whether she liked it or not. She’d have to think of something along the way.

“Let me carry that for you.” He reached for the pack. “What do you have in this thing, by the way? Rocks?”

“Rocks and books.” Wreath forgot for a split second how lousy she felt. “I look for the heaviest things I can find.”

Law grunted. “As usual, you succeeded.” He patted the bike seat. “Climb on behind me. I haven’t tried this in a while, but I know how to keep us moving.”

Not a single car passed them on the dark highway, and Wreath was glad for Law’s presence. She didn’t feel like herself at all. With Law pedaling, she felt like a queen on a parade float. A sick queen, but a queen nonetheless.

For a few bumpy minutes, Wreath allowed herself to think that things were turning out all right after all.

When they got to the junkyard, she pointed on past it down the road. “Just stop over there.”

Instead of riding to the spot she’d intended, Law stopped on the shoulder. Wreath’s head whirled, and she steadied herself by gripping his shoulders.

“You ever noticed that place?” Law turned slightly and pointed to the junkyard where she lived. “It’s creepy.”

Wreath’s heart thudded, and she thought she might throw up. Letting go of Law, she shook her head like one of those dolls with a spring for a neck. She managed a casual glance at the property she knew so well. “No,” she said, and then “no” again. “I haven’t paid much attention to this area. You stopped too soon. My cousin lives farther out.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Law said. “You all right back there?”

“Not so great,” she said. “Please go on. I need to get home.”

Thankfully Law started pedaling again and talked as he did. “That’s an abandoned junkyard,” he said and gave a spooky, dramatic laugh. “They say it’s haunted.”

“Haunted?” Wreath’s voice squeaked. “That’s ridiculous.”

“People say they’ve seen lights there lately, that ghosts live there.” Law kept up the weird voice, like he was announcing a horror movie.

“You’re creeping me out,” she said, punching him halfheartedly in the shoulder. “Quit talking like that.”

“A homeless person is probably camping up there,” Law said. “With the leaves off the trees, it’s easier to see up in there.”

A coughing fit consumed Wreath, and the bike wobbled. “Quit talking about that,” she said. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry,” Law said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Nobody could possibly live up in that place. Mitch and I used to explore there when we were kids, and it was a disaster area even then. They don’t even let people go up there anymore.”

Wreath drew her first full breath since Law had first mentioned the junkyard.

“No one in their right mind would attempt to live there,” he said and reached back to pat her leg.

Wreath coughed again. “Turn there,” she said at a small dirt road on the other side of the highway from the junkyard. “Turn!”

“Your cough is getting worse,” Law said, crossing over to the dirt road.

“I want to go home.” She glanced at the bare outline of the old junkyard sign, and Law draped his arm around her shoulders for a sliver of a reassuring moment.

“Let’s get you to your cousins’,” he said.

Wreath reluctantly pulled away. “This is far enough,” she said. “You’ve got a long walk home as it is.”

“I’m taking you to the front door,” he said. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Wait.” Wreath unzipped the pack, still on his back, and pulled out her flashlight. “I’ve got a light, and I’ll be fine. It’ll upset my mom’s cousin if you bring me home, and that’ll just make it harder.”

For the first time that evening, Law looked doubtful. “I don’t want to make things worse,” he said. “But why would your cousin care if a friend brings you home?”

“His wife’s not all that happy about me moving in.” Sometimes the lies rolled off her tongue so fast it scared her. “I should stay out of their way as much as possible.”

She shone the thin beam of the flashlight onto her watch. “It’s late, and I’m going to have to sneak in as it is.” She turned the light off and pointed down the dirt road, dotted with the occasional homestead. “It’s just around the corner. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

“If you’re sure …”

“I’m sure. Thanks, Law. See you at school tomorrow. I intend to ace the big project, so you’d better do your best.”

He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “Be safe, Wreath.”

With her chapped hand against her face, she could almost feel his warmth as he headed off into the night. Wreath rode down the unfamiliar road, stopping twice to make sure Law wasn’t following, relieved when she turned a small curve, and he was out of sight. Turning off the flashlight, she shivered as a cool wind blew down the lane.

She made herself wait in the shadows for a few minutes to be certain she was alone. A few feet away she watched a gray cat stalking something in the brittle weeds, and jumped when he pounced and walked out with a mouse.

Unnerved, she pedaled back toward the highway, staying close to the brush. A car sped past on the open road, and she swerved into the trees, scraping her hand on a branch. The small cut stung worse than the time she’d snagged her leg on a barbed wire fence, and she had to force herself not to cry.

Her eyes moving from side to side, she scanned the highway as she approached, halfway hoping Law would be waiting there for her. Her legs felt like they couldn’t push her the rest of the way home.

But the late winter moon shone on a desolate strip of road and nothing more.

Locking herself in the Tiger Van, she tried to work on her homework. But her thoughts were jumbled, and she gave up and lay down under her blanket. She’d rest a few minutes and look for an aspirin.

Within seconds she was sound asleep.

A persistent rustling sound awakened Wreath, and she sat up, reaching for the baseball bat she kept nearby.

Her breathing was loud and raspy, and outside she heard steady movement.

She considered calling out but decided not to reveal her presence. The element of surprise was about the only protection she had. Weakly, she crawled to the back of the van, listening. The noises retreated, and the night grew quiet again.

Unable to get warm, she fumbled for warmer clothes, including a moth-eaten knit cap. She pulled an extra sweatshirt over her head and put on the insulated coveralls she’d found in the big toolbox on the back of a wrecker. A wrecked wrecker. As she struggled into the stale, heavy outfit, she thought her life and that wrecker had a lot in common. For years she had done her best to pull her mother out of one mess or another, and this was what she had come to.

The outside noises drew close again, and she slithered on her stomach to the front of the van, the old carpet tickling her face, dust threatening to make her sneeze. Something bumped against the van, and she could stand it no longer. “I have a gun,” she yelled in a hoarse voice. She heard sounds like men arguing, low and indistinguishable. “Big Fun, go away!” Her thoughts were muddled.

A thud sounded near the front fender. “I’ll shoot you. I will.” Her voice was muffled in the padded vehicle, and it trembled.

Silence.

She sat with her legs crossed, the bat raised, trying to watch both front doors, wondering how much it would take for someone to break the locks. When her feet went numb, she rose to her knees. The waiting was paralyzing, and she knew she had to take action.

She peeked around the old sheet she’d used to cover the windshield and tried to make out shapes in the darkness. She wished for a brighter moon. A low movement near the pristine VW bug next to her van caught her eye. Then another. And another. She heard the grunting noise again, and wondered if Big Fun was in a fight, rolling around on the ground. She’d seen him do that once with a man who came to their house to play poker, and it had looked primitive, beastly almost.

Staring so hard her eyes hurt, she couldn’t make out what was going on, but it was clear that whoever was out there was distracted. She eased the van door open, gripping her pack in one hand, the bat in the other.

When Wreath stepped out, she didn’t know whether to run or laugh. A half-dozen of the biggest, ugliest hogs she had ever seen were foraging approximately three van-lengths away.

As she took a cautious step toward her bicycle, the largest of the animals charged toward her. She jumped back into the van, slamming the door. She thought at first the animals were making the loud squealing noise, but then realized it was her.

No matter how brave she might think she was, no way could she face those beasts. She slumped to the rough floor.

Chapter 34

J
ulia was disturbed. Wreath had missed two days of class during a week of big presentations, something so out of character that the teacher knew something was wrong.

After class, Law Rogers had asked her if she knew where the girl was, looking troubled and hinting that she might be ill.

“I need to know what you know,” she told the boy. “If I’m going to help, I need more to go on.”

He had shadows under his eyes, as though he’d not gotten much sleep.

“I don’t know much, Miss Watson,” he said. “I walked her home after church Sunday night, and she was planning to give her report yesterday.”

Julia could tell he was considering how much information to offer, the way students sometimes did when covering for a friend, and she saw the minute he decided to shut down. “Wreath wasn’t feeling very good,” he said. “She probably has a bug or something. I’m sure she’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Law,” the young teacher said as gently as she could, “you and I both know that Wreath doesn’t have much family support. If you know something that can help, you need to tell me.”