Rewrite Redemption (11 page)

We all knew about sucky home lives.

“What else, Ipod?” I asked.

“They owned their previous home since before he was born. His mother, Rebecca, taught at the Art Institute of Seattle up until his brother’s accident.” Ipod frowned. “I couldn’t find her listed in Boulder County. She must stay home and look after the brother. That’s all I could find.” He set his laptop on the floor and relaxed back into the hammock.

 “He really seems to be just a kid,” Lex said, standing up and stretching. “I don’t doubt that something happened to you in Spanish, A.J., but there doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary about this guy.”

 “I agree,” said Ipod. “The more likely explanation for what happened is that it had to do with
you
, and his being there was just a coincidence.”

“Maybe,” I said, not really convinced.

“Still, we need to keep our eyes open and stay in control of this,” Lex said. She sat down on the arm of my chair. “Playing devil’s advocate, records can be faked. He still could be some kind of…”

“What?” asked Ipod.

 “I don’t know,” Lex said, “shape shifting, alien, psycho-killer, cyborg from the future. I’m just saying we need to keep an eye on him until we’re sure.”

“I agree,” said Ipod, “but not for the reason’s you just listed, Lex. Wasn’t he just sitting there, doing nothing when you walked in? I can’t say for sure that the energy you felt didn’t have anything to do with him, A.J. But I feel pretty confident that even if he’s different in some way, he’s at least living his life as a high school kid. There’s way too much of a paper trail.”

“If you say so,” I said to them. But inside my own head, I was having a way different conversation. It
did
have something to do with him. I knew it did.

I don’t know how I knew—I just did.

The night-of-the-living-dead screeched in my ear, yanking me out of a deep sleep. My eyes flew open. My arms thrashed to protect my face, as I struggled to figure out what was attacking me and where the heck I was.

In the soft, blue light of early morning, an old man loomed over me like a blimp, belly hanging out from under a faded camo jacket. He reeked of cigarettes and had one hanging from the corner of his mouth. What was left of his gray hair stuck out in patches, and he was holding the leash of a stupid, little yap-dog that was having a spaz-attack two inches from my head. The neighborhood watch…great.

I scrambled up; afraid the alarm-clock-from-hell might rip my face off. The old dude glared suspiciously, phone in one hand, finger poised for 911.

I stretched, trying to look innocent. “Really hard run,” I said smiling. I glanced at my phone. 6:08.
Damn
. I did
not
intend for that to happen.

The old dude just stared.

I needed to handle him carefully. The last thing I wanted was a scene in front of her house. “I’m a…um…Jim. I live over on Spruce Street.” I pointed south. “Early morning run, took a break, guess I fell asleep,” I continued. “Probably should get back. My mom will have breakfast ready.” That wasn’t true, but I was going for normal.

The yap-dog yapped on, teeth bared, just waiting for the go signal.

“This is not a public park,” the old dude growled, frowning.

“Yeah, I know, sorry,” I said, shrugging my shoulders and backing away slowly. “I’m outta here. Gotta run, don’t want to be late for school.”

“Let’s go, Viper.” He pulled the dog to his side and stuck the phone in his pocket, obviously disappointed there’d been no reason to use it. When Viper wouldn’t shut up, he picked him up and walked across the street, turning periodically to glare at me.

As I walked away, I caught a quick look at her house. It looked sad in the early, morning light…badly in need of a paint job. A broken window was patched with duct tape, and an ancient Subaru rusted in the driveway. Strangely, the vegetation appeared incredibly healthy. It was amazingly lush for early spring. The grass was the greenest on the block, which was a weird juxtaposition with the beat up house and car. But I couldn’t hang around long enough to make sense of it. I certainly didn’t want to be seen.

I made it home with enough time to get in and out before anyone else entered the picture. I grabbed the hide-a-key and quietly opened the back door. I took my shoes off. No way did I want to wake anyone up. Mornings were scary around my house, and I avoided them whenever possible.

Luckily, the house was still in mausoleum mode. That’s where everyone but me is tranqed-out, and it’s so quiet you can hear yourself blink. The curtains are closed, the shades are drawn, and sometimes you forget if it’s day or night. Night and day, my house cycled between mausoleum mode and warzone. I tried to time my comings and goings during mausoleum mode. It was creepy. But warzone…don’t get me started.

I downed some OJ, in the dark, in front of the fridge. Then I snuck into my room and hit the shower. I nuked a breakfast burrito and made it safely out the door. On the way to school, I thumbed through my playlist for something mellow. I was stressed that I’d blown it before I could even meet the kid, much less present my case and ask for help.

I needed to relax. I settled on a classic by The Clash, but no dice. The little Shadow was my ticket back to normal.

But I wouldn’t relax until I’d sealed the deal.

I heard them arguing softly. “Ipod, let her sleep. We didn’t crash till almost two. You know it wipes her out to visit Oz.”

“I disagree,” he countered. “She needs to see if it happens again. At the very least, she should get another look at the guy—get a feel for him.”

“
I’ll
feel him out,” Lex said.

Ipod snorted.

Lex snickered softly. “Out, not up. You know what I mean. We don’t need to rush this. We’re keeping her away from him till we’re sure he’s safe.”

“He’s not going to suck her blood, or zap her brain right there in Spanish,” Ipod argued. “She should—”

“Guys, I’m awake,” I said, sleepily, rolling over in my bunk.

“Stay here today, A.J.,” Lex ordered. “Out, Ipod.” She pushed him towards the bunkroom door.

“I only—”

“Out!”

“All right, already,” he said, grabbing a stack of clothes. “I’m hitting the shower. I’ll meet you out front in fifteen, Lex. Later, A.J.”

“Sweetie, go back to sleep,” Lex said. “You have a free pass from yesterday. I’ll leave a note for Sam to call and I’ll text you your assignments.”

“I don’t know,” I murmured, sitting up. “I have to face him eventually.”

“Yeah, but not today,” she said firmly, pushing me back down. “Sleep. I’ll check him out.”

It didn’t take much to convince me. The euphoric feeling I’d had last night was gone, and I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and was out in minutes. I didn’t even hear Lex leave for school.

When I woke up, it was almost noon. I headed for the big house. There’s a bridge rigged from the tree house porch to the deck off my old bedroom. It allows us easy access to a bathroom—the only necessity our home lacks. We left the slider unlocked, and Sam was used to us going in and out 24/7. I think it reassured him to hear us rumbling around. I walked thru the slider and listened. The TV was on softly. He was up.

I hopped into the shower, and as often happened there, my thoughts drifted to my mother. It was getting harder and harder to see her face as the years went by. Sam packed all the pictures away one night when he and the bottle were having a fight. I knew they were stuck somewhere, but I didn’t want to ask. The only one I had left was the
Life Magazine
photo. She looks like a kid and I was just a baby. It doesn’t seem like us at all.

I closed my hand around the antique key that I wore around my neck. The key was my touchstone to my mother. It opened the door to the tree house. She gave it to me shortly before she checked out, telling me she trusted me to keep it safe. She must have known then that she was going to leave me.

At that thought, the cold, dark emptiness began to build in my chest. I wrapped my arms around myself and took a deep breath to keep it from getting too big. I rubbed my key again. Then I shut off the shower and tackled the tangles in my hair. The emptiness dissipated somewhat and I stuffed what was left down deep. That worked okay, I guess. I had a lot of practice at dealing with it.

I pulled on some old jeans and a tee shirt and went to check in with Sam. Surprisingly, he wasn’t in his chair. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking what looked like beer in a coffee mug. He looked up as I walked in.
Bummer!
I knew that look. He’d been waiting for me.

Ambush.

He had a concerned look on his face. That didn’t happen often. It was rare that we had actual conversations. We certainly didn’t talk about important stuff. Denial was Sam’s M.O. “How are you feeling, Autumn?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” I said, pulling out my earbuds. “I just needed a little extra sleep.” I dropped my Pod on the counter and rooted in the cupboard for Pop Tarts. I poured some juice, stuck the Pop Tart in the toaster, and braced myself. Maybe he was finally dealing with the mortgage payment problem.

He cleared his throat.

I sat down and took a mental breath. “So…” I said, waiting for the toaster to ding.

“I can’t believe how grownup you’re getting,” he said finally.

“Yeah, sixteen, almost over the hill.” I looked at his unshaven face. I shouldn’t have let Lex use the “female thing” excuse yesterday. It must have gotten him thinking.

The toaster dinged. I hopped up and grabbed my Pop Tart. It was too hot, and I tossed it from hand to hand until I could snag a paper towel. “So…” I said again, sitting back down.

“There are things a mother should talk to you about,” he said. Then he blushed and shifted in his seat.

Oh jeez
, I cringed to myself,
not the sex talk
. I focused on the Pop Tart, peeling it apart. A strip dropped face down on the floor. I bent over to pick it up, grateful for the chance to hide. I
so
didn’t want to be having this conversation.

“I bumped into Pat yesterday at…um…the store,” he said, stumbling over his words.

Okay,
so
not expecting that. What did Lex’s mom have to do with things my mother should tell me? This was bizarre. “Yeah, so how is the Chihuahua?” I asked, trying to move the conversation forward.

“You guys are going to slip one day and call her that to her face,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

I shrugged. There were way worse names we could call her, and she deserved every one of them.

“Pat feels,” he continued. “
We
feel…we’re concerned that you guys are teenagers now, and you and Lexie are…girls. And Ivan is…well, a boy…and you’re still all sleeping there together so much of the time. And…well…Pat thinks…I mean, I think… We don’t want—”

“Is
that
what this is about?” I interrupted, relieved. It wasn’t the sex talk, it was just the “you guys are getting a little old for sleepovers” talk. We’d been expecting it for years.

“We don’t want things to get…um, complicated,” Sam said. His eyes were glued to his coffee cup.

“Complicated?”

“You know, with you or Lexie ending up…in trouble.” He blushed and rubbed his hand across his whiskers. “Pat’s concerned.”