The Discovery (6 page)

"It turns out that when Andy and I were little tykes, we got into a fight that included my snagging a handful of my brother's hair."

"Ouch!"

"His words exactly," Andi says. "The thing is, the hair came out roots and all. Mother put it in a zip-lock bag and taped it in our baby book with the heading 'Andy's first haircut.'"

"Awww, that's so cute," I say, rocking back in my chair.

"It's not only cute but very important, Kendall. There should be enough of Andy's DNA on those hair follicles to test."

My eyes look like the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, gushing with my thankfulness and hopefulness. "I-I-I ... can't thank you enough f-f-f-for believing me enough to try."

"It'll take weeks, Kendall. But we'll get it done. I'll call Sarah and make the arrangements."

"Thanks, Andi. I'll never forget this."

Another pause. "Let's just take it one step at a time, Kendall."

"You bet."

We say our goodbyes and I collapse onto the tarot-card table in exhausted yet relieved tears; I might be on the right path to finding my paternity. I hear the footsteps of Mayor Shy and Loreen as they pad over to me.

Through a sheen of tears, I gaze up at Loreen and smile. She places a hand on my shoulder and she ... knows. She's aware of everything that just transpired.

She smiles so sweetly at me. "You've found your family, Kendall."

After the phone call with Andi Caminiti, the weekend flies by in a blur. Patrick and I hang with Celia, Clay, Dragon, and Becca at the bowling alley on Saturday night before returning to my house for a make-out session on the front-porch swing. Well, until Buckley and Eleanor decided to chase after each other and use the swing as an interstate in their fur war.

True to her word, Mom made Yankee pot roast on Sunday and filled Patrick's tummy so full you would have thought it was Thanksgiving at the Mooreheads'. My parents like him, though. I can tell. Must be all his military living and the
sirs
and
ma'ams
that he sprinkles in his conversation. Whatever it is, I'm happy.

Until six thirty comes and Patrick's Kia is packed with his guitar, duffle, and a to-go box from Mom for his forty-five-minute-long trip north to Duluth.

I hurl myself at him, hugging him as tightly as I possibly can. "I wish you lived here."

He kisses the top of my hair. "Me too, Kendall. Me too. At least I'm closer, you know? Could be worse. I could still be in Tampa."

I bury my face in his chest. "I don't want to think about it."

His finger moves under my chin and he lifts my face to his. We meet in a sweet breath of a kiss that sends a volt of current all the way down my legs. He nibbles on my bottom lip and I sigh as I dissolve into his kiss. So soft. So tender. So sexy. And with our mind connection, I know what he's thinking too.

So cute.

So much fun.

So ... mine.

"You're mine too," I say when we break for air.

Patrick stretches his arm to push me away. "You. Stay right there or I'll never leave. And I'll flunk out of school and not get into a good college and have to work a minimum-wage job just to pay the bills and it will all be your fault 'cause you didn't let me leave."

I burst into giggles and take two steps backwards.

"See you Friday, cutie." And then he winks.

"It's going to be a long-ass week."

He slips into the car, rolls the window down, and cranks the engine. "I know, but you're tough and you can do it."

I pout. "DNA testing on top of this whole Xander the Doll thing?"

"Neither of which you can control," he says. I hear the gear shift into reverse. "Take care of my girl."

I kiss my fingertips, extend my fingers, and blow at him. He catches the kiss and puts it on his heart. Awww ... swoooooon!

"Call me when you get home," I shout as he turns around in our gravel driveway.

You know I will.

And then his little black car drives out of sight.

I walk back into the house and shut the front door behind me, and Mom steps out of the den, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She beams a smile at me and then walks over to hug me.

"I like this one," she says. "He has his head on right."

"I like this one too."

"And don't you worry about the DNA testing. I've got it set up for Wednesday at my office. It'll be quick and easy and I'll be there with you."

"Thanks, Mom," I say, hugging her back.

"Now scoot upstairs and get your homework done. I'm sure you've put it off all weekend."

I look up at the ceiling, feigning innocence.

"I know you so well, Kendall."

"Love ya; mean it!"

"I know you do, sweetie."

Patrick's right. Mom's right. It'll be okay.

The breeze blows my hair, loosening the curls I spent an hour with the curling iron to shape.

Becca's somewhere nearby spinning a mix of Deadmau5 and
Armin van Buuren into a funky House beat that has my foot tapping ... or maybe that's my heart beating like crazy.

Anxiety surrounds me.

Unease trips me over my feet.

Suddenly, the music stops. Blackness surrounds me. I'm moving through a dark tunnel. Whispered fingers of a spider's web tickle my face in an invisible snare. I swat around left and right to free myself of the entanglement, only to stumble on the stairs leading down, down, down—into what?

A growl sounds out. Not exactly demonic in nature. More like in annoyance at being disturbed. A cry. A shout. Piercing blackness with nowhere to go.

My hands feel in front of me looking for anything to grab hold of.

Nothing.

Cold air.

A stream of light from an unknown source.

A figure near the floor in the shape of a boy.

No, not a boy. A doll.

It's Xander.

He laughs at me. Hard. A cackle that resounds off the clay walls of the deep cave. I cover my ears with my hands, pressing hard, hard, hard, yet I can still hear his shrieking chortle.

"
You can't stop me," he hisses.

Snap.

I'm out of the cave and moving with great speed down the hallway at Radisson High. Xander is there. In the hallway. In the lunchroom. In my history class. Then he's standing at the corner of the square,
downtown. He's waiting for me when I come down the stairs for breakfast.

"
What do you want from me?" I scream to the doll. A doll that is preserved in a museum case, I remind myself. "What? What do you freaking want from me?
"

His button eyes glare at me. Waves of hatred swirl around him.

"
I'm not the one who did anything! I didn't break the rule or tempt the curse.
"

Farah's cheesy pictures that are plastered all over her Facebook site flutter by like turning pages. Jim. Farah. Sean. Dragon. All of them. Stupid pics and poses with a doll. The hits on the Like button soar into the thousands.

Is everyone crazy? God knows I feel like I am!

Anona appears through the mayhem, her eyes conveying concern.

"
You can do nothing to stop it.
"

"
Stop what?" I beg to know.

"
They brought it on themselves.
"

"
Are you telling me this curse is real, Anona?
"

Xander the Doll is at her feet staring at me with those eyes until suddenly he blinks and blood pours from his eye sockets and—

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

My scream is more muffled than it sounds in my head.

As I flail about, sheets and blankets fly, as do Natalie, Buckley, and Eleanor, who are curled up on the bed. Eleanor meows her displeasure and hops down with a grunt. Buckley readjusts, and Natalie jumps over to the chair with Sonoma the Bear. My chest rises and falls with each labored breath and I pray hard that God will slow my heart down to a reasonable rate and not one in need of medication.

What. The. H ell. Was. That. All. About?

As I struggle to breathe like a normal person, I reach forward and tug my gray and white cat Buckley into my lap. He's sound asleep again, so he doesn't fight me. He just lightly purrs as I hug, pet, and kiss him. There's something calm and soothing about petting a kitty cat that returns blood pressure to normal levels without Lipitor or Crestor or anything else that ends with a -
tor.
Actually, those are for cholesterol, I think, but it doesn't matter right now.

I've had ridonkulous dreams before, but this one was
chilling.
So real, too. The earthy smell of the damp clay tunnel remains in my olfactory system. I scratch at my face even now to rid it of the phantom spider web. And that damn doll with the button eyes. What was
that
all about? No good can come from having any association with a story as mucked up as that of the Farnsworths with their Haitian slave nanny, sixteen children, voodoo protective charms, and God knows what else. I don't know if I'm up for this one.

Then I think of all I learned out in California on my retreat. How the spirit guides and the totem animals spoke directly to me with the message that I have to use my gift to help others. It's my duty in life to find and guide lost souls. I cannot fear. Oliver told me so. Loreen tells me so. Father Mass tells me so. Mom tells me so and even cross-stitched this Bible verse into a throw pillow for me:

Fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

—Isaiah 41:10

My eyes lift to the ceiling and I pray with all of my might. "Lord, I'm really gonna need your strength on this one if it's as bad as I think it's going to be. Amen."

W
EDNESDAY AFTER SCHOOL
, I head to Mom's office.

"I can't do this, Kendall," Mom says as she puts down the syringe.

I slouch in the chair at the doctor's office and glance down at my left arm. The blue rubber band is knotted on my upper arm and my hand is balled into a fist. Mom was
this
close to puncturing me with the needle before she chickened out.

She flips off the tight plastic gloves and stacks them on the table in surrender. "I can't hurt my baby like this."

"Mom, please—"

"I can't do it, Kendall."

"Mom, you do this every day to other people's babies," I say, a bit snarkily. I just want this over and done with. Needles are not my friend and I totally gag whenever I watch my own blood drain into those little glass vials. If my mom does it, though, at least I'll know it's being done with love.

"That's different," she says. "Don't you remember? I cried when you got your ears pierced. I can't cause you pain."

I snicker at the memory of my sitting at the Earring Pagoda in the mall as Mom was over in the corner crying. Bless her little heart.

She reaches over and releases the rubber band meant to help with the blood flow.

"Mom, we have to get this done. Andi Caminiti agreed to the test.
I
can't be the one to back out."

Mom flattens her lips together. "Bernadette, can you come here?"

A tall African American woman dressed in white with fantastic braids past her shoulders comes around the corner. "Yes, Sarah?"

Mom indicates the labwork form on the desk. "This is my daughter Kendall. We need to pull vials of blood to send off for a DNA test."

Bernadette smiles warmly at me. I shift my eyes to my mother and then roll them a bit. Bernadette totally gets it.

"And you can't stick your own baby. I understand. Move aside."

The nurse reties the blue rubber band and instructs me to make a fist. Before I know it, the shiny needle pricks my skin and slides into the vein in the crook of my arm.
Oww, oww, oww.
I pinch my eyes shut when I see the blood begin to fill the vial. I know this has to be done to determine if Andi and I are related, but seeing the worry painted on my mom's face almost breaks my heart.

With my right hand, I reach out to her, and she threads her fingers in mine. I know she and Dad both support me in this effort to get closure on my birth parents. However, I know they fear losing me. I clutch her hand tightly to let her know how much I appreciate her—as well as to fight the pain. Damn, this hurts!

Bernadette pulls the needle out and says, "There you go, sweetheart. Let me just put a Band-Aid on that for you."

She swabs the area with alcohol and then applies the sticky pad to my arm. I'm sure I'll have a whompus-size bruise there later today.

"Sarah, did you get the hair-follicle samples yet?" Bernadette asks while labeling my blood.

"Yes. They're already bagged and tagged."

I rub at the spot at the back of my skull where the hair was plucked.

"Now what?" I ask both my mother and Bernadette.

"All of the samples will get packaged up in a special medical-supply envelope and left for FedEx to pick up and take to the lab in Connecticut," Bernadette explains. "It'll be a few weeks, but don't you worry." She pats my arm and returns to whatever she was doing before Mom called to her.

"So, some scientist with a lab coat and a microscope will determine if my DNA matches up in any way with the Caminiti family."

"That's pretty much it," Mom says with a sigh of relief.

I finger the Band-Aid on my arm, watching a small spot of blood seep through.

Now all I can do is wait.

***

Celia's leaning against my car when I leave the doctor's office. "Everything come out all right?"

"Yep."

She frowns. "Get it? 'Come out all right'? 'Cuz you just had, like, blood drawn?"

"I get it."

"It wasn't funny, was it?" She looks sorely disappointed.

I laugh and pat her on the shoulder. "Sorry, Cel. My mind is in ten thousand other places." The DNA test. My dream. Xander the Doll. My history paper. Everything.