Brilliant Hues (2 page)

V
anilla scented bubbles spilled over the top of the bathtub. I had to turn off the jets and mop up the mess before I could sink back down into the suds and soak away the sand, salt, and fear from the afternoon. My parents’ voices rose and fell, the sound traveling up from the kitchen through the vent. Even though I couldn’t hear their actual words, I knew they must still be talking about the man on the beach.

I closed my eyes and lay back against the tub. At the beach I’d been afraid, but now, more than anything, I was irritated. Dad had promised that when we moved back to the Bay Area, when he went back to his old job, his cases would be like they used to be. Simple. Boring, even. This first one was something about a test for cancer. Nothing like his work all last year in Owl Creek with the hunters and the bears, where the argument had spilled over into our lives and
made everything crazy. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I’d been looking forward to a break from worrying about Dad’s work. Couldn’t he just be Dad? Dad who obsessed over making perfect eggs, and who could make anyone laugh no matter how bad they felt.

In fact, I
needed
a break. I had enough problems of my own: Andrew, missing everyone in Michigan, trying to fit back in here. I swirled my finger in the bubbles, shaping them into peaks and valleys. Jangly. That’s how I felt, like someone had shaken up my insides and now all the parts of me ricocheted off one another, trying to find where they belonged. It didn’t make sense, really. I was home now, after being away for so long. Home, where I was supposed to fit perfectly. Settling into Owl Creek had been like inventing a new life—harder than I expected, but at least I had seemed to be moving forward. Now, coming home, felt like going backwards, back to who I’d been before I left. And I was just … different.

I missed Ruth. And Vivian. And even Frankie, who’d I’d already been away from for a few months, ever since she moved to New York to live with her mom. Then there was the terrible pang every time I thought about Andrew, like iron fists clamping around my lungs.

Maybe tomorrow, when the girls came for the sleepover, I’d start to settle in. I’d figure out how Old Sadie fit, and where New Sadie fit, and stop feeling like I’d developed multiple personality disorder.

My skin was starting to wrinkle. I opened the drain and
turned on the shower, splashing the sides of the tub to get rid of the extra bubbles. Once the soap was gone, I wrapped myself in an oversized towel and went to find pj’s.

Probably it would be time to eat soon. Still, I’d wait for my parents to call me, since they obviously didn’t want to include me in their conversation. I hadn’t had a real drawing session since I’d been in my new bedroom and I couldn’t wait to draw every nook and cranny, every angle and shadow. Higgins opened one eye and then closed it again as I sat with him on the bed.

“The ocean took it out of you, huh, Hig?” I scratched his ears and then opened my sketchbook.

Frankie’s envelope fell out. It had been waiting in the mailbox when we drove in from our trip across the country. I pulled out the letter, which I’d already read about a hundred times.

I missed Owl Creek. Eventually, I’d find doorways and paint them, but right now, I grabbed a pencil, wanting to draw without planning first. As the image took shape on my page, I realized I wasn’t even drawing my room, like I’d thought I wanted to. The curving lines of Pippa’s face stared up at me, freckles scattered across her nose, her mouth tipped up in a grin. Her long brown hair was already streaked with summer blonde, probably from her late-season soccer games. When I’d left last summer, we’d been pretty well matched as far as sports went. She was more of a natural athlete than I was, but we’d been able to play together. Now, after all of her practice, we’d for sure be on different teams.

So what was I worried about? That things would be different with Pips now? Was it all the pictures of Alice and
Pippa together? Did I really feel like I wouldn’t fit anymore with the girls who’d been my friends forever?

Someone started pounding on the front door. The sound carried clearly up the stairs to my loft — not a please-let-me-in knock. Very definitely, this was an I’m-coming-in-whether-you-like-it-or-not knock. Higgins barked and charged down to the door. I stopped, pencil in mid-air, my insides turning to ice.

“To your mat, Higgins!” Dad’s commanding voice echoed in the downstairs hall.

Dad was the only person Higgins obeyed, and only when he used this now-or-else tone of voice.

The knocking stopped suddenly, and Dad’s voice, smooth, calming, began, “I’m sorry, you’ll have to — ”

A voice, gritty with emotion, cut him off. “Just give me a chance to explain.”

Something about the man’s words drew me, maybe because his voice was vaguely familiar, or maybe just because he sounded so desperate to speak. He sounded the way I felt sometimes, when my feelings seemed ready to explode out of me if I didn’t tell someone. I closed my sketchbook, tiptoed over to the landing, and peeked over.

Dad had only opened the door about a foot, and he stood in the gap barring the way into our house. I could hardly see the man, only the side of his face reddened with anger, and his tousled, black hair. The man from the beach. I shivered and rubbed at the goosebumps that now covered my arms.

“I will hear you out,” Dad said. “But in my office, where
we can record your statement and try to get to the bottom of—”

The man cursed and then shouted, “I don’t care about protocol.”

Dad didn’t raise his voice. “Coming to my house, talking to me outside working hours, can only damage the mediation process.”

The man slammed his fist against the doorframe. “Listen to me.”

Dad began to turn his head toward the landing, as though he sensed me watching. I ducked down behind the ledge just in time, and heard him walk outside and close the door.

I didn’t dare go downstairs, but I had to hear more, or at least know that Dad was okay, out there with the crazy man.

Carefully, quietly, I slid my front window open until I could hear their voices again.

“… Unreasonable,” the man was saying.

“That’s what mediation is all about, Karl,” Dad said. “Figuring out what is reasonable and deciding on a logical course of action.”

Now I had a name at least—Karl.

“There is no logic with Tyler,” Karl said. “He’s been like this since we were kids. Always wanting to save the world, as though he can invent some magical device and no one will ever be in pain again.”

“But you knew this about him when you started the project,” Dad said.

“I didn’t know he’d be so stubborn and blind,” Karl said. “I didn’t know he’d want to wait to test people until it was too late.”

“Tests haven’t been conclusive either way,” Dad said. “We don’t know that Tyler’s plan won’t work.”

“Testing kids.” Karl spat out the word kids as though it tasted as bitter as ash. “Are
you
going to explain to a dad or mom or brother that you’re sorry, but the treatment just didn’t work? You’re sorry they hoped so hard and went through so much, but due to circumstances —” his voice cracked and for an astonished minute I thought he might be crying. Crying?

“Karl …” Dad began.

“I will get what I want.” Now Karl’s voice was low and threatening. “No matter what. Having me on your doorstep will be the least of your problems.”

“Karl, you cannot continue to harass my family. We have to — ”

“What? Follow protocol? Sure thing, Matthew Douglas. I’ll make absolutely sure to dot my i’s and cross my t’s.”

Footsteps sounded on the porch, as though Karl had pushed past Dad. He strode out from under the eaves and I watched him wrench his car door open.

Dad called after him, “Karl …”

Karl squealed out of the driveway. I felt colder than I had on the beach. The conversation didn’t piece together. The crazy guy from the beach, Karl, clearly disagreed with Dad’s
client, Tyler, about the device. Karl had mentioned testing kids. For cancer? Why would that make Karl so angry?

“I need to report an incident,” Dad said, still outside.

He must have called the police.

“Yes,” Dad continued. “I’m a mediator and one of the parties dropped by my house and threatened my family. He also approached my daughter and her friend earlier today at the beach. He grabbed my daughter’s friend by the wrist.”

There was a long pause before Dad continued. “No, he didn’t force entry.” After another pause, he sighed heavily. “He seemed unstable, but no, he didn’t hurt me or anyone else.” Dad listened and only barely controlled the irritation in his voice as he said, “Yes, I understand. Still, I’d think you’d want to do something
before
he actually commits a crime.”

Dad said goodbye and as the front door opened and shut, I quietly closed the window.

“Sades,” Dad called up to me. “Come on down for dinner.”

I swallowed hard, strategizing. Dad would know I’d heard part of the conversation, but not that I’d heard it all. Should I pretend I hadn’t eavesdropped? Or just let all of my questions tumble out? Would I even have a choice once I looked Dad in the eye? I shoved my hands into my pockets and tried to look relatively normal as I headed downstairs.

“S
adie, Sadie, Sades!” Pippa pounded up the stairs to my loft, Higgins on her heels.

She dropped her bag on the landing and fought off Higgins as he licked her face.

“Down, Higgy,” I pulled him away from her. “You’d think he hadn’t seen you for months.”

“Well, yesterday was a long time ago.” She kissed Higgins on the top of his head. “You weren’t kidding. Your new room is like a tree house. And the entire upstairs is yours?”

“I know. Crazy, isn’t it?”

She inspected my walk-in closet and the enormous bathroom. “Good thing you’re still in our school district, even all the way out here.”

“All the way out here? It’s only ten minutes from school.”

“It feels like another universe. We drove past three horse farms on our way out here.”

I wished I could fall into the easy pattern of conversation with her, wanted to be in the mood for a sleepover with the girls, but I couldn’t stop thinking about crazy Karl.

“Pips, the guy from the beach came to the house last night.”

“What happened?” She sat on my bed, wide-eyed.

“He shouted a lot and said he’d get his way no matter what.”

“What did your dad say?”

“That’s the thing. Nothing. He wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Pips rubbed her wrist. “Well, I sure don’t want to see that guy again. He’s creepy.”

She went over to the three paintings on my wall, obviously trying to change the subject. I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t want to think about Karl either.

“Wow!” Pips said.

I walked over to stand next to her, feeling a little shy. Vivian and I had finished the paintings just before I left Michigan. The first was of me and Higgins curled up in the old Catholic church, our hair tipped with gold as the sunrise glowed through the stained glass windows. The second was Ruth on the beach, her hair and clothes wild in the wind, sunlight streaming down on her through a break in the dark clouds. The last was Ruth, Andrew, me, and Higgins, sitting on the rock near the Tree House, our noses and cheeks bathed in moonlight as we watched the stars.

“I thought your drawings were good, but these …” Pips said.

“Paint is my thing, I guess. You like them?” I couldn’t resist asking.

Pips gave me a well, duh look. “Yeah. Especially the light. How did you make the paint glow like that?”

“The color only looks like it glows because of the contrast. White and gold look brighter the closer they are to the dark.”

“The light means something in all of these paintings, doesn’t it?” Pips asked.

Leave it to Pips to ask the uncomfortable question. I squirmed, not sure I wanted to tell her more. It was one thing to email Pips about prayer and all my questions about God, but it felt strange to talk out loud about something so personal.

“I was trying to paint the way it feels when you know God is with you. The way the light and the air feels, charged somehow, with something bigger than you.”

Just then the doorbell rang, and Higgins bounded down the stairs. Even before Pippa and I made it all the way to the door, noise spilled into the entryway. Juliet, Alice, and Bri hurried inside, already arguing over who had first dibs on Juliet’s brownies. Higgins bee lined for the Tupperware, and nearly bowled Juliet over.

She held the Tupperware over her head, spinning in place to get away from the attack, making the high-pitched shriek that only Juliet could make. “Brownies aren’t good for dogs!”

“Higgins, let Juliet be,” I called.

Before I could catch his collar, he made one more flying leap.

I yanked him into a sit. “Down, Higgy.”

“Whoa, Sades!” Bri dropped her bag and gave me a big hug. “This house is so cool. Like a cross between a ship and a tree house.”

Bri headed straight for the wooden steering wheel that the previous owner had installed on one of the thick columns. “Ahoy, ye landlubbers!”

“You guys are so weird.” Alice said

“You guys, come check out upstairs,” Pips said.

I took Higgins to the kitchen and closed him in. “Mom, can you watch Higgy for a minute while we have brownies?”

“Just don’t spoil your dinner. Dad will be home with pizza in about an hour.”

“Like pizza’s so much healthier than brownies.”

Her eyes sparkled as she said, “I could make you all a nice healthy salad instead.”

Higgins flopped onto the floor and sighed.

I laughed. “My thoughts exactly, Hig.”

Upstairs, the girls were already draped around the room — on the bed, leaning on pillows, their bags in a comfortable pile on one side of the room. A real sleepover just like old times.

“Sadie gets the first brownie.” Juliet passed me the Tupperware, swatting Alice’s hand away as she tried to steal one en route. “She’s had to wait the longest to have one.”

Pips sighed. “Yeah, I guess that’s only fair.”

After I took a brownie, I passed the Tupperware to Pips, starting the free-for-all. After less than a minute, only crumbs were left.

Alice licked off her fingers and then pulled a pile of brochures out of her bag. “Now that Sadie’s here, it’s time to decide.”

“On …?” I asked.

“Camps!” Juliet said. “I vote for cooking camp.”

“You don’t need cooking camp,” Pips said. “You’re already a chef.”

“I might need a new specialty,” Juliet said. “We can’t eat brownies all the time.”

Alice passed me one of the brochures. “There’s a four week outdoor camp, where you sleep away and go on rope courses and do arts and crafts and hiking and boating and everything.”

Juliet grabbed the brochure with the picture of the professional kitchen on front. “Or, there’s cooking camp.”

Alice ignored her and held up another few brochures. “There’s some day camps: horseback riding, or dance, or art …”

“I was thinking about helping at the Explorer’s camp at my Grandma’s church this summer, too,” Pips said.

Alice frowned. “But we can’t all do that together.”

“I don’t know, I mean we could,” Pips said, but shrugged when Alice still didn’t smile. “Not if you’d feel uncomfortable, though.”

“I can’t see my parents being okay with me teaching at a Christian summer camp.” Alice kept her voice light, but I knew this was an uncomfortable topic between them. Over email, Pips had told me about Alice’s reaction when Pips started going to church with her grandma. Alice’s parents were atheists, I knew, and I guess Alice was too. At least she said she didn’t believe there was such a thing as God. But Pips never pushed her beliefs on anyone else, so it seemed like Alice was overly touchy about it.

“I don’t think it’s like that, exactly,” Pips said. “I mean, the camp is at church, but no one would be preaching or anything.”

Annoyance crept into Alice’s voice. “I’m just trying to think of things to do together, that’s all. If you guys want to do your own things over the summer, that’s fine.”

“No, Alice, it’s not …” Pips started.

“No big deal,” Alice said, but we could all tell it was by the way she stuffed the brochures back into her bag.

Bri sat up on the bed, breaking the silence. “I’ve been meaning to ask you all, you know how Margo conned her mom into signing up for the design classes I’ve been taking in the city?” Something about the way she looked at Pips and then the others made me feel like I was missing something. “Well, she’s signing up for design camp too, and I might need your help.”

Alice frowned. “I can’t go to camp in the city. My parents could never get me there.”

“There’s cooking camp,” Juliet repeated.

Bri ignored Juliet. “I’m serious. I’m already signed up for design camp next week. It’s a weeklong design competition, and at the end, the winning team gets to work with a real designer for another week or maybe even more. You know how Margo is. She’s decided she has to win.”

“Wait, are you saying you want us to —” Juliet asked.

Alice cut her off. “We’re getting off topic.”

Juliet raised an eyebrow at Alice, and then glanced questioningly at Pippa, who watched me, her expression unreadable.

“What?” I asked as the silence thickened in the room. “Who’s Margo?”

“Which camp sounds fun to you, Sadie?” Alice asked, as though she hadn’t heard my question.

I turned to Pips. “Wasn’t Margo the girl you said ran for school secretary?”

Alice cut Pips off before she could answer. “We’ll talk about it later.”

I looked from Bri to Juliet to Alice and finally to Pips, the sick feeling growing in my stomach the longer the silence stretched. “Um … what’s going on?”

Pips gave the others an exasperated look. “You guys. We should tell Sadie.”

Alice sighed. “Right. We just need to discuss it first, that’s all.”

“Then stop talking about this,” Pips said. “You’re making her feel left out.”

Perfect. Now they were talking about me as though I

weren’t here. My chest started to burn — that I’m going to cry any minute feeling.

Downstairs, the front door opened and closed, and Dad called, “Pizza!”

Everyone jumped up as though a fire alarm had just rung. It wasn’t just because of dinner. They wanted to get away from the awkward conversation. Away from me.

I blinked and blinked again. I would not cry.

Pips put her arm around my shoulder before following the others downstairs. “Don’t worry, Sades. It’s nothing. I promise.”

I couldn’t help it. Tears filled my eyes and I had to turn from her to brush them away.

“Come on,” I finally said, avoiding her eyes. “Let’s go eat.”