Spirit’s Key (19 page)

Mrs. Borse makes a sliver for me, and I slip in fast. I cough out the gray swirls for several minutes before I can get in a clear breath and speak again. “We have to hurry. You have to come with me.”

She pats me on the back and pours me a glass of water. “You shouldn't have come, child.”

“Do you have something we can tie to our faces?”

She shakes her head. “I can't go out there. No. Too hot today.”

I ignore her insane understatement and grab two kitchen towels. I tie one to my face and instruct her to do the same.

She refuses. “You go on now. I'll be fine here.”

“You won't. You'll die,” I say.

“I'll be okay.”

“There isn't time to argue. Don't you understand?”

She shakes her head again.

She's coming with me if I have to drag her by her fur earflap. Her house key is on a hook by the door, and I get an idea. She never uses that key for its intended purpose. It's hanging there for one reason. A reason I can use. “Can I give you a reading?”

She plucks the key from the hook and hands it to me. “When Mr. Hatterask came to fix my bedroom ceiling, he told me you're doing readings now.”

I nod. Her key is warm, and for the first time holding a key, I
see.

Great talents require great sacrifice

The ghost baldies are fading, but my visions are getting clearer. The key tells me I can't have them both. I won't be able to
see
Sky and the future, because Sky isn't a part of the future. But Mrs. Borse is.

“We should go upstairs,” I say.

Mrs. Borse follows me to her bedroom. I
see
that I'll convince her there.

I lift the window and call the eagle to me. She's circling outside, and she comes along with the smoke. The gray swirls fill the bedroom.

Mrs. Borse coughs. “Put that window down!”

The eagle hovers. I point to it. “See that bird?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Borse coughs again. “Now put the window down.”

I close the window. “She was trying to tell you something, smashing in here like she did.”

“What's that?” Mrs. Borse asks, her eyes curious.

With the key, I
see
and I
know
, and I'm sure of things I wasn't before. “She was telling you that the world is coming in here whether you like it or not. You can't shut it out.”

Mrs. Borse looks through the window and tilts her head up at the bird. “What else does she say?”

“That she and a boy will help you get to the beach safely, and it's there you'll face your greatest fear.” Mrs. Borse probably thinks I mean leaving her house, but I mean the baldies.

Mrs. Borse turns away from the bird. She gazes at me. “Will I conquer it?”

“Yes. But there's a price.”

“What is the cost?” she asks.

“Your house.” I place her key on the nightstand.

She sucks in a breath.

I remember what Dad said about giving people courage. I take her hand. “I promise, you'll be better off without this house. Your life is out there.”

Mrs. Borse looks through the window again, as if to see what
out there
means. Everything ablaze, it doesn't look appealing, even to me. “You might lose your house too, child,” she says.

I pull out my own key. I
see
that she's right. I place my key next to hers on the nightstand. “We won't need these anymore, but we'll be neighbors again soon. We'll get new houses and new keys.”

Her eyes are intent. “You sure?”

“Yes,” I say. “But we have to hurry. The present isn't something we can squander.”

Mrs. Borse removes her fur hat. She places it in a hatbox in the closet. She removes her fur coat, and underneath she's wearing a red bathing suit—an old-fashioned one with a little skirt on the bottom. She hangs up her coat and takes a wide-brimmed straw hat from a shelf and places it on her head.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

Her eyes are nervous, but she nods. “I'm ready,” she says.

I hand her the kitchen towel, and she holds it over her face. I offer my arm, and we run down the stairs. We run out the front door. We run until we're out. Out there.

 

29

T
HE
B
ALDIES'
F
UTURE

The smoke swirls around us like a storm. Mrs. Borse clutches my arm. The gray clouds aren't as thick higher in the sky.

I look to the eagle and point. “Nector and the eagle are going to lead you. You'll be safe. I promise. Please tell my dad not to worry. I
saw
my future, too. I'll be with you all soon.”

Just like in my vision, Nector runs toward us. “Spirit!”

“I need your help.” I hand Mrs. Borse over to him. “Take her to the beach for me?”

He nods like I
knew
he would.

“Follow the eagle,” I tell him. I run to the edge of the woods.

“Where are you going?” he calls.

Sky and the other ghost baldies flicker and cry anxiously at my side. They cry for their relatives trapped in their cave. I have to prevent the future I see when I think of the woods. A future where the baldies die because they're trapped in a home that isn't safe from smoke. The fire will catch the trees behind the Fishbornes' house. The baldies will retreat to their cave. They will inhale too much smoke. “I have to save the baldies!”

I instruct Sky and his friends, “Take me to the baldie cave.” I dive into the trees, following the faint outline of their misty bodies. I don't know how I'll lead the baldies out of their cave, but I saw that I will. I saw myself on the beach with them and Mrs. Borse. It's up to me to lead them to safety.

The farther away from the Fishbornes' I get, the easier I can breathe and the faster I can run. I crash through the trees. I don't care about the sticks that tear my skin.

My eyes strain to see the dogs. Only Sky's full outline remains. The others have faded to an ear or a foot, the glimmer of a jaw. But Sky is my good dog, and he performs me this last favor, leading me to the baldies' cave. He stands at its entrance, looking into my eyes. I stare back trying to communicate everything I feel:
Thank you, I love you, goodbye.
But when I blink, he's gone.

I don't pounce threateningly up to the baldies' home. I've learned from my mistake. I spot the orange backpack, which got caught in the bush outside the cave's entrance. Slow and quiet, I move to free it. The thick fabric has bite marks, but the baldies weren't able to get through the tough material. Thanks to Dad for providing the strongest survival bag known to man. I crouch down in the trees nearby, excited I have supplies to form my plan.

Great gifts require great talents

I clutch Sky's tag, but it doesn't bring him to my side. He and his friends are gone now. I understand they won't be back. All I have is a talent, the ability to speak to animals with kindness and understanding.

I open my backpack and remove an apple. I trained Sky with apples. I hope these baldies like them, too. I break a chunk of apple with my teeth and toss it. It lands about fifty feet from the cave's entrance. I follow the apple piece with a toss of the flashlight. It bounces heavily. I want to draw them out of their cave. They think it's safe inside their home like Mrs. Borse did. But they're wrong. I watch the cave, and I wait.

A baldie appears. He sniffs the air. He can probably smell me along with the apple. I hope I'm far enough away not to be considered a threat. The fire from the Selnicks' and the Fishbornes' makes a massive cloud over town. The dogs look to the smoke. I want to watch over them to make sure they aren't hurt.

I toss another apple chunk a few feet in front of the first one. The leader takes it. He looks my way. I toss another right to him so he'll understand the food comes from me. I keep tossing apple chunks for him and his friends. I back away slowly, luring the pack toward me. There are seven of them. I don't know if there are more in the woods or not. But maybe once we get to the beach, these baldies can call the others.

The pack of seven follows me. They could easily knock me down and take what I've got left: one more apple, a handful of carrots, and a small packet of peanut butter. But I move slowly, facing them.

I try to speak to them with my eyes like I did with the eagle and like Sky did with me. And I don't run like dinner would. I drop a bit of food, then back away. I do this over and over until the distance between me and the baldies becomes less each time. I've got a couple hundred yards to go when I'm down to the peanut butter. I scoop some onto my finger and hold out my hand. The leader sniffs the air, then moves in hungrily. He's not Sky. It took me a long time to teach Sky to accept food from my hand with a soft bite. I quickly push the peanut butter off my finger and onto the ground. The baldies dive in with gusto.

I lead them to the top of a sand dune overlooking the beach. Below are the people of Bald Island. I want the animals to stay on the hill, so I drop the backpack for them to sniff. They stop following me in favor of checking out the bag. They crowd around, pawing it and sticking their noses into pockets. I continue to back away, eventually turning to the ocean. I want to dip my face into the deep green-blue water.

“Spirit!” Mrs. Borse calls me over. In her bathing suit, she looks frail and small without her furs. Her eyes are wide on the baldies who've followed me here.

“Don't be afraid,” I say. “They won't hurt you.”

“I should've brought my gun.” She looks around a moment, then clutches her heart in relief. “Oh, thank goodness someone has his wits about him and thought to bring a rifle.”

Mr. Fishborne appears from the woods and steps onto the beach. He raises his gun and steadies it on the baldies. A crowd gathers, pointing, and there are a few surprised screams.

I didn't see this in my vision. Have I made a mistake and led the baldies into danger? I jump in front of them. “No!”

Mr. Fishborne stands firm. “Get out of the way,” he commands.

His wife approaches. She puts her hand on his arm. “It's okay. Spirit knows these animals.”

Her husband turns. “What? Sweetheart, you're back! You look so well!”

“I am well! And I'm freed from Whales' Cove, thanks to the baldies.”

“The baldies?” Mr. Fishborne lowers his gun a surprised inch.

“Spirit can talk to them and see their ghosts, and they helped me escape. I can't say I understand it all, but maybe we were wrong about these creatures.”

Mr. Fishborne doesn't look like he believes it, but he allows his wife to take the gun from him.

I smile at Mrs. Fishborne.

Next to them, Poppi clings to Dad's leg. Mr. Selnick's face is black with ash, and he's wearing the blue plaid shirt he wore the day of Dad's reading. He puts his arm around his wife because she's crying.

But Mrs. Selnick isn't consoled. “There was a dead baldie by the shed,” she wails. “I didn't want to get sick, so I didn't move it away from the house. The fire spread so fast. I thought I could control it. But the gasoline for the grill exploded, and…” Mrs. Selnick stops to weep. Her hand is bloody.

Mr. Selnick's face dawns with realization. “Honey, your hand!”

His wife nods. “I burned it. And I … I burned down our house.” Mrs. Selnick buries her head into her husband's shoulder.

His blackened face is shocked. “We should've left the island.”

“I'm sorry I couldn't tell you more details about your future.” Dad shakes his head. “And I won't be able to tell you anything from now on.” He gives me a soft smile. “If you need something, you'll have to ask my daughter.”

People watch me curiously. Mrs. Borse doesn't look as wide-eyed as she did earlier. I wasn't able to save our homes, but I managed to save Mrs. Borse. And a few baldies. On the dune, my seven baldies have two friends with them. Nine of the island's baldies have made it to the beach.

“Are you sure those baldies won't get us?” Kelvin asks me. His arms are stuffed with superhero toys. He hugs them close to his chest like he's protecting them.

“You don't bother the baldies, they won't bother you,” I say.

Kelvin nods, and the crowd seems to relax. People talk and hug. And after a few minutes, they seem to forget that there are nine baldies sharing the beach with them.

Nector touches my arm. “That reading you gave me,” he looks into the sky. “I think it's about to come true.”

Tiny black flakes fill the sky and our clothes. People brush at their hair and shoulders, but more flakes keep coming because a helicopter stirs the ash into a frenzy.

The helicopter lands on the beach, and two men who look like firefighters jump out. They motion for several people standing nearby to board. We're told there will be more helicopters coming. No planes. I couldn't see in my vision of Nector, so I didn't know the difference. I didn't know he'd be a passenger in a helicopter carried from a smoke-filled island. I turn to him. “I'm sorry, it isn't like I thought.”

“It's okay.” He smiles. “It already feels like flying.”

I laugh because he's right. The wind from the helicopter whips my hair into my eyes and blows back Nector's clothes. His T-shirt and shorts look like they're caught in the whirl of a hurricane.

He lines up next to me and catches my hand. “Ride with me?”

His hand is small and warm in mine, and I nod. Our island is burning, but strangely, I feel more than ever like I belong to it.

We'll all be outsiders for a little while. Then we'll return to start again.

 

30

O
UR
F
UTURE

A few weeks later the island smells of lumber, and my ears ring with the terrible noise of those machines that make sawdust. There are more big trucks on the island than I thought I'd ever see.