Spirit’s Key (16 page)

I don't know how much time passes, me frozen in thought, but when I open my eyes it's just Nector and me.

The baldie is gone.

I stare down at the fluorescent meat, wondering how to pick it up. We have to remove the threat. “We have to get this steak out of here. Without gloves, I don't think we should touch it—just in case the poison could hurt us, too.”

Nector eyes the ground a moment. Then he takes off his shoe. He removes his sock and slides it over his hand, using it to pick up the steak. He dangles the meat from his socked hand, grinning. “Mission accomplished.”

I laugh.

Nector slides his shoe back onto his bare foot, and we head back to his house, where we can close the meat up in the garbage can.

“I saw this same yellow stuff coming out of Eder's truck,” I say. “I think he did this.”

Nector nods like it's easy for him to believe. “If anyone thought they could control nature, it would be Eder. He told Mom once that she should do a better job fighting back against the hurricanes. Isn't that nuts?”

“Yeah.” But even though I'm sure Eder put out the poisoned meat, I'm struggling to understand. He's our friend. How could he? “I found Sky's dog tag at your house,” I confess. “It was Thursday, delivery day, when I came to your house about my broken bike. You know anything about that?”

Nector pauses like he's trying to remember. “Eder stopped by—I think it was the night before—to talk to my dad about building him a fence like you wouldn't believe. Said he wanted the tallest fence money could buy, like he was trying to keep out something. Dad told him that if he was worried about the baldies, they know how to dig under fences. Maybe Eder dropped the dog tag then?”

I turn my head so Nector can't see that I'm about to explode with angry tears. “Eder took all our supplies from our house. He took my dad. And he took my dog from me.”

Nector nods again like he could believe Eder would do all that.

“But it's not just Eder who didn't like Sky,” I say. “No one did. My dog was murdered. His soul was taken, but no one will care about making it right, because he's a baldie.”

We walk in silence for a few minutes, unless the universe can hear my fury. “Should we tell someone about this? He has to be stopped.”

Nector shifts his eyes to the evidence dangling from his socked hand. “Probably wouldn't do much good.”

My fury grows because I know he's right. Since Eder is only killing baldies, people will probably say good riddance. “No one likes the baldies.”

“I…” Nector hesitates. “I wanted to like your dog. I was working up the nerve to pet him. I was going to ask you if it was okay, but he disappeared before I got the nerve. You were always with him, so when you showed up without him I thought he was sick. I waited, but the next day he wasn't with you either. Then I saw your poster about him being lost, and I…”

“You wanted to pet Sky?”

He nods.

“No one ever asked to pet Sky.” I pause, letting the image cool my anger. “He would have liked it. He liked you.”

Nector blushes and shakes his head like he doesn't believe me.

“He did. I swear. Remember that time you were late to the docks because you were helping your dad finish painting at the Fishbornes'?”

“Yeah.”

“Sky wouldn't stop looking toward your house, waiting for you to come. Then when you showed up, I had to grab his collar to keep him from mauling you with excitement.”

Nector lets out a nervous laugh. “Mauling might have been a little more than I was ready for.”

“I figured.”

We walk more, then Nector says, “It was weird how that baldie backed off. It could have killed you if it wanted. Honestly, I thought it was going to.” He pauses like he's thinking more about this.

“Sometimes baldies are hungry or protective, but that's different from being murderous.”

Nector looks confused, as if he doesn't understand what I'm saying.

“People think the baldie who knocked over the tourist girl was trying to kill her, but he just wanted her sandwich. He was hungry. He wasn't a murderer. He didn't commit a crime.”

“But if I killed someone for a steak or a sandwich, even if it was an accident, I'd go to jail.”

“Baldies do what they have to do to survive. They can't go shopping at the general store for food. If they see a steak in the woods, they have to snatch it. It's like your mom. Despite what Eder says, she works hard to protect you from the hurricane. And if biting or growling at a hurricane worked to send it away, she'd do it. Don't you think?”

Nector laughs. “My mom would love that. She drinks two cups of yaupon tea every morning just to get through the weather report.”

“But she's not mean. Not really. I used to think she was, but she's doing what she has to do.”

“I don't know. I could see my mom getting excited about killing a hurricane with her bare teeth.”

It's a funny thought, and I can't help laughing, too.

*   *   *

But that night, after I'm tucked back in bed inside the Hatterask house, I'm not laughing. Before Nector and I left the woods we found three more steaks. We used our socks to carry them to the trash, but how many more are out there? Eder's out there, too, a murderer on the loose, and poor Dad, an innocent man locked away from everyone he knows. And Mr. Selnick and Mrs. Fishborne locked up, too. It's not fair. Dad and the others can't be sick because of the baldies, because the baldies are being poisoned. How can islanders, kind enough to thank the soul of an oyster before eating it, sit back and let these terrible things happen? Well, I will not sit back.

I will stand up. I will find Dad. And together we will make things right.

 

24

T
HE
G
REAT
R
OPE

I dial the phone fast. “Hi, Mrs. Borse, this is Spirit Holden. I need something from you. I'll be right over.” I hang up before I even find out if she heard me.

But I guess she did, because she cracks her door and lets me in on the first knock.

Now I'm the one breathless and urgent. “I need a boat,” I say. “Didn't Dad borrow one from you to clear debris from the ocean after the last hurricane?”

“That was a kayak. Beat-up old thing, hasn't seen the water since.”

“You think it could make it around the island to Whales' Cove?” I ask. “I tried cutting through the woods on the closer side, where I could take a blow-up raft, but I got lost.”

“Oh, child. You shouldn't be cutting through those woods. Isn't safe.” She shakes her head.

“What about kayaking the long way around from the beach?”

“Be a heck of a lot safer than those woods. Got to be careful of the rocks with those strong currents, though.”

“What rocks?”

“Big ones 'round that barrier island. Used to be talk of tearing down that old whale station, making a museum, but that was a fool's errand. Too many ships wrecked over there.”

“I don't have any money to pay you back if I wreck your kayak. But maybe since you don't use it much, it would be okay?”

“Don't use it much? I never use it. It's probably nearly wrecked as it is. Been lying in the backyard for years gathering dirt and bird droppings. A spin in the ocean might do it good.” She leads me into the attached garage and points out the window to a sun-faded red plastic kayak leaning up against a fence.

“Your dad's the only one ever used it. Practically brand-new. I ordered it thinking I could convince myself to leave the house. I loved being on the ocean when I was younger.”

“It looks like it fits two people. I could help you if you wanted to take it in the water. Not today because I'm in a rush, but another day.”

“That's sweet of you, child. But I think my ocean days are over. Be careful in that thing, you hear?” Mrs. Borse says. “Wear one of the life jackets that're tucked inside. You don't want to meet your maker.”

“I'll be careful,” I promise. “But I can't control the weather or the waves.”

Mrs. Borse nods. “Wouldn't expect you could, child.”

I start to open the garage door, but Mrs. Borse's ear-piercing screech stops me dead. My finger freezes over the garage door button.

“Go out the front, please, and walk around,” she says. “
Fat
spirits can most certainly get through a garage door.”

I nod and slip through the front door.

But once I'm with the kayak, I realize carrying it to the ocean is a two-person job. The boat is too long and awkward, especially with my wounded arm.

I run to get Nector. If he didn't tattle about me slipping out in the middle of the night, I don't think he'll tell about me trying to save Dad.

But when I get back to the Hatterask house, Mr. and Mrs. Hatterask are sitting outside in the folding chairs.

“Look at this girl,” Mr. Hatterask marvels. “First day of summer vacation, and she's up with the sun. Best time of day, isn't it?”

I nod, even though if I wasn't on urgent business, I'd still be in bed.

Mrs. Hatterask eyes my bitten arm. “I know it's early and most folks aren't up yet, but you really ought to be careful. Heard talk last night—folks wanting to build a giant wall to keep the baldies out. People crazy enough to try locking out the world, they're crazy enough to lock out a child, too.”

“Now, don't frighten her,” Mr. Hatterask scolds his wife. He smiles at me. “The other kids are still sleeping. Have you eaten?”

I shake my head.

“There's leftover oyster stew on the stove.”

“For breakfast?” I ask.

“Nothing better than oyster stew to give you energy for an adventure.” Mr. Hatterask winks.

His wife sips her yaupon tea from a mug. I can smell it from here. “Bet that bowl you had last night is what's got you looking so rosy-cheeked. I plan to have a bowl myself after I finish my tea.”

“How do you know I'll have an adventure?” I ask Mr. Hatterask. I hope Mrs. Borse didn't decide to snitch.

“Adventure is what summer vacation is made for.”

“Oh. Well, I'm sure I'll have one, then.”

“That's the spirit. That's the Spirit, get it?” He laughs at his own joke.

A pang of sadness overcomes me. Dad should be the one using my name like that.

“Yes, indeed you are looking better,” Mrs. Hatterask says. “But you best play it safe and have your summer adventure inside today. I'll run by the market when it opens and get some more oysters for tonight. Can't have too much when it comes to oyster stew.”

The rotten oyster smell before I fainted! I realize the oysters she's going to buy will rot. But I don't know why, so I don't mention it. I hope the kinks in my ability work themselves out soon. Smelling the future isn't proving very helpful.

I may as well eat if I have to wait for Nector to wake up. No matter what Mrs. Hatterask says, I've got to get to Dad. I wish I didn't need anyone's help to move the kayak. But at least I have someone to ask. It's strange that it took Sky dying for me to make a few friends.

Two bowls later, Nector still hasn't woken up. It's not nice, but I bang around in the kitchen as noisily as I can. I wash the soup bowl and knock the spoon into it so it clatters.

But it's Gomez who appears, still in his pajamas, his hair sticking up on one side like a horn.

“What're you doing up?” he asks.

“I'm waiting for Nector.”

“We don't have school today.”

“I know.”

“You wouldn't be up this early unless you thought we had school.
You
forgot.”

“No I didn't.”

“Did too.” He laughs at me with his eyes.

“Did not.” It's childish to argue, but I can't seem to help it.

He gives me a defiant stare. “Liar. Only a dingbatter would forget school's canceled.”

My fury rolls in like a storm. “If I'm a dingbatter, then so are you. I've lived on this island almost as long as you've been alive.”

“Nuh-uh,” he says.

“I've been living here six
whole
years.”

“Six is a lot less than ten,” he says.

“You were only four when I moved here. Just a baby. And I say I've been here long enough not to be an outsider anymore. This is my island, too. My home.”

“You weren't born here. Your dad wasn't born here. And you can't change that no matter how long you live here. You'll always be a dingbatter.”

I pick up the soup bowl and slam it into the sink so hard it shatters into a bunch of pieces. I raise my arm and crash the spoon in after it.

Gomez's eyes widen so far I realize I've frightened him.

Mrs. Hatterask comes inside. “What's going on here?”

“She did it.” Gomez points at me.

I try to scoop up the broken pieces with a towel. “I'm sorry,” I say. “I didn't mean to break it.”

Mrs. Hatterask frowns. “You have to be careful. We don't have many bowls.”

Her kettle of yaupon tea is on the stove. After I've finished scooping up the ceramic pieces, I pour myself a cup to calm the anger bubbling inside me. The tea shouldn't have any trouble finding it. “I promise to buy you another bowl as soon as I can charge for readings,” I say. “I wish I could charge now, but I don't think it's fair to ask for money for smelling someone's future.”

Gomez narrows his eyes at me as I sip the tea. “Why does she have to live with us? I don't like her,” he says. “She scares me.”

Mrs. Hatterask looks thoughtful, like maybe I frighten her, too. She puts her hands on Gomez's shoulders. “Spirit is our guest. And while she's here, we must treat her with kindness.”

“It's okay,” I say. “I was just leaving to start my adventure-filled day.
Outside.
I refuse to be locked up before I have to be. I'm sorry again about the bowl.” I walk out of the house, but my fury follows.