G-157 (20 page)

She felt bile begin to rise in her throat as she looked upon Mitch eating cereal and her father sipping coffee behind his newspaper.

“Where’s
M
om?”

“Sleeping.” Mitch slurped at his cereal, a red plastic watch from the cereal box snapped around his wrist.

“Is she sick?”

“Your mother is just tired
,
Aire,” her father said, still holding the paper in front of his face. “She just wanted a little extra rest today.”

“Mom doesn’t get tired. She’s in here like clockwork at se
ven every morning even if she’s
sick.”

“You slept in today,” Mitch said as he raised his bowl to his lips to drink the remaining milk.

“Yeah, but I was up late taking my SATs.”

Her father’s hands clenched the paper tighter at the mention of the test. Her own fists clenched at the sight of his white knuckles slowly ripping a tear down the front page of the Gazette.

“How did you do?” Mitch asked.

“I think I did pretty good as a matter of fact.”

“I think it’s all silly nonsense.” Her father’s voice was low, his fingers tearing the page even more.

“Can’t you just support me? You’re my father and as far as I know fathers are supposed to be proud of their children and desire them to do well. And it’s pretty embarrassing when the mayor has to come to your house and tell your parents that their daughter deserves a chance to better her life.”

“Enough.” The sound of tearing paper ripped through the kitchen. “I want you to be happy, but you won’t be happy in the outside world. It’s a terrible place and we’ve no reason to leave.”

“But-“

“Enough!” he shouted, the front page ripping in two. “No more talk of this matter. It’s ruining my coffee.”

Her fists clenched tighter, her shoulders shaking as she fought to contain her anger. She could feel Mitch staring at her, his eyes boring into her, fueling her irritation. “What
are you looking at?
”

The boy’s
soft
eyes stared up at her from the rim
of
his empty bowl. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

She cringed and
gritted her teeth
. “I’m not
leaving
you, I’m doing what I
need
to do with
my
life.”

“Aire, why don’t you go up to your mother’s r
oom to see if she’s still tired?
” her father said, waving his hand in the air as though shooing away a fly.

“I will,” she snapped, and grabbed a bagel from the covered tray on the counter before leaving the kitchen.

The second level of their house was the same as all the others in John’s Town. Two rooms were on each side of the hallway with a bathroom separating those
on
the right if
one
were
coming up the stairs. She and Mitch took the two to the left. Her mother’s room was the first door on the right, her father’s the third. She knocked on her mother’s door when she reached the top of the st
eps
,
smoothing down one of the stick-
on daisies that surrounded a wooden plate with her mother’s name on it. Another requirement of John’s Town: all bedroom doors must have the occupant’s full name clearly posted on the outside of it.
So they know who to snatch in the night
, she thought with a bitter taste in her mouth as she waited for her mother to answer. Silence persisted when she knocked again. She frowned, and opened the door.

Her mother lay on her back staring at the ceiling. Her face peeping out from under the comforter was so still and pale that for a moment Aire thought she had died in her sleep. She walked quietly towards her,
and
gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling relieved when she saw the slight rising and falling of the comforter.

“Mom? Are you feeling alright?”

Her dry voice crackled and held an uneven pitch, as though she hadn’t had a drink of water in several days. “So tired. So very tired.”

“Do you want me to bring you anything?”

Silence.

Aire placed a hand on her stomach and leaned in closer to her mother’s gaunt face and parched lips. “What’s wrong with you?”

She stopped breathing, her body freezing into a silent statue. Aire’s own breathing caught in her lungs as she waited for signs of the twitch. Her mother blinked her eyes
, and the comforter resumed its
steady rhythm of rising and falling. The woman offered up a weak smile. “Good morning, honey,” she said, and reached out to squeeze her hand.

“Mom, what’s wrong with you?”

“Oh nothing,” her mother shrugged as she struggled to sit up. “I’m just sleepy today. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

Aire scanned the bags under her glassy eyes and the paleness in her cheeks.

“Okay,” she said, brushing hair back from her mother’s face. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

“No, honey, I’m alright. I’ll be getting up in a few minutes. I’m sorry I missed breakfast this morning. You know how much I look forward to pancake day.”

“It’s okay. Here, I brought you a bagel. It’s not as good as pancakes, but it will do the trick. I’ll be around for a little while this morning so if you need anything else just let me know, okay?”

“I will. Thank you, honey,” she said, and wrapped Aire in a tight hug. “I love you.”

“I love you
,
too.” She let go of her mother and left the room, closing the door behind her.

She sat on the bench seat in front of the bay window in her room, watching the sparrows and blue jays sing and hop around the branches of the oak tree. She opened the window to feel the fresh breeze floating in, bringing with it the first smell of flowers beginning to bloom from the beds below as the sun warmed the earth in earnest, a promise that all traces of winter would soon be forgot for another year. It was too beautiful a day to spend cooped up inside, and she decided to take Ms. Stillwell’s advice to go out and have fun. A day of fishing with Troy seemed the best way to enjoy a lazy early spring Sunday and ward off her troubles until tomorrow.

An hour later,
her guitar strapped over her shoulder and
fishing gear in hand, Aire peeked in her mother’s room before leaving. She frowned when she saw her unmoved in the same spot on her bed. Again her mother assured her she was fine and didn’t need anything, but Aire still brought her a glass of water
-
which her mother gulped down as though she’d been in the dese
rt for two days without a drink-
and set out for the lake.

She squinted her eyes in the brightness of the late morning rays from the sun, her pupils adjusting to the intensity of the light after the two block trek to Troy’s house.  No one
answered when she ran
g
the bell even though the family’s dirt bikes were lined up in the open garage.  The screaming of an electric saw blade pierced her ears from the backyard, and she let herself in through the back gate to see what the Culvers were building.

Hawk, Troy’s aging German shepherd, came bounding up to greet her just as she closed the
wooden
gate behind her. She smiled as the dog licked her hand while she petted him, his tail waggling so hard it made his rear sway from side to side. Satisfied with the attention she’d given him, the dog trotted back into the yard. She followed him through the side yard and rounded the corner of the house where she found the source of the whining saw.

Troy, his father, and little brother were toiling away building a tree house in the giant maple tree
in the center
of the spacious yard as his mother worked in the garden at the far corner of the lot. Smiling at the scene, she waited until one of them noticed her so as not to interrupt the picturesque moment. Mr. Culver turned to reach for another nail, catching Aire in his view.

“Why, Aire, what a pleasant surprise,” he called from the ladder he was perched on halfway up the tree. Shane turned to look down at her, and Troy smiled from behind the saw bench.

“Hello, Mr. Culver. Shane,” she said, and gave a nod at Troy’s little brother.  “Hi, Troy.”

“Hi, Aire,” he called back.

Mrs. Culver arose from her vegetable garden and dusted her hands off as she made her way across the greening lawn. “Good morning, Aire,” she said. “Going fishing today?”

“Yes
,
ma’am. It’s too gorgeous outside
to not spend the day at the pond
.”

“Well that sounds lovely,” she said.
“Doesn’t that sound lovely, Roy
?”

“It certainly does,” Mr. Culver answered. “What do you think
,
Troy?”

“That does sound like a good idea.”

“Why don’t you go and join Aire? She’ll be able to get there faster if you take her on your bike. I’ll pack you kids a lunch. Both of you could use some fattening up. I’m sure
Roy
and Shane can manage the rest of the tree house by themselves
,
”
Mrs. Culver said.

“I want to go fishing,” Shane whined.

“You want a tree house, now shush,” Mrs. Culver said. “I’m sure your brother would love to take you next weekend though. Troy, you go get cleaned up.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and unplugged the extension cord to the round saw.

Forty-five minutes later, Aire and Troy sat side by side on an old flannel blanket in front of the
pond
, their lines lounging in the water, her guitar propped against a boulder. They’d managed to find a sequestered cove that offered privacy from the other townsfolk who also thought the day perfect for fishing. She smiled as two pointers raced across the water purs
u
ing a mallard, wishing the water were warm enough so she could join them.

“So how did your test go?”

“It was hard.” Aire gave her line a lazy
tug
. “Well, actually just some parts of it were hard. The science and English stuff was a breeze. Overall I’d say I did pretty well.”

“Well enough to get into school?”

“I’d say so.”

“Hmm,” Troy said, and jerked his own line. “When do you find out how you did?”

“Two weeks. It seems like such a long time, but I’m thinking it’ll go by fast. I have a few things to keep me occupied while waiting.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Well,” she said, pausing as she pursed her lips. “Like finding out more about the weird things happening around here.”

“Like Gary?”

“It’s not even just Gary anymore. It’s Doug and Bowie and Rhonda and Kelly and Scott and countless others.”

“Gary has been worrying me,” Troy nodded. “It’s like he’s doing this whole Jekyll and Hyde thing. One minute he’s fine and the next he’s this
crazy
person.”

“And there’s my mom, too.”

Troy lowered his pole as he turned to face her. “What do you mean?”

“It just started today. This morning I found her lying in bed with the saddest look on her face. She was still in bed when I left after ten. My mother has never slept past seven in her whole life.”

“That is weird, especially because my mom has been doing the same thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it started early last week. She’ll stay in bed all day if she can. The only reason she was outside today was because my dad made her get up. It’s the strangest thing.  What do you think is causing it?”

Aire cocked her head to the side, giving the lure a slow turn to pull the line in. She’d pulled the writhing worm still on the hook to the shore and cast the helpless creature into the water again before answering.

“I think it’s coming from Gary. He was the first to start acting weird after the crash. But I think it might be coming from you too.”

“Me? Why would you think it’s coming from me? I’m not doing anything weird.”

“No, not yet, but there’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.” She reached into her pocket and pinched her fingers around the rice grain she’d carried in her pocket every day since The Moto. She pulled it out and held it in front of Troy’s face. “I found this in your helmet after the crash. It was ripped out of the back of your head when Gary landed on you during your heat race.”

Troy’s mouth dropped. He reached out to take it from her, his hand trembling. “Oh
,
man. That came from my head?”

Aire nodded.

“What is it?”

“I have no idea. It does weird things sometimes.”

“Like what?”

“See that
wire
in the middle? Sometimes it starts flickering.”

“How weird,” Troy said, holding it closer to his face. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Me either
.
It terrifies me, and I don’t know why but I think this thing has something to do with how strange everyone has been acting. I’ve been so scared lately, and I don’t know what to do to fix it.”