Choke: 2 (Pillage Trilogy (Pillogy)) (8 page)

I walked up the driveway and around the side of the garage. The area behind was heavily forested with thick pines and thin white trees. There were some doors and windows on the back of the garage, but most of them were rusted and looked as if they had not been opened or fiddled with for quite some time.

I put my hands on my head and looked around. I had no idea what I was searching for, and all I could see was forest. I did what Whitey had told me to, but there was nothing to see on the ground but dirt and leaves and an occasional bit of stone. I was kind of surprised not to find Old Whitey out there practicing with his sword.

“This is stupid,” I told myself. “I’m going to see Kate.”

I returned to the manor, took a shower, and changed into a black T-shirt and jeans. I was excited to go see Kate. I figured she was mad at me for almost killing her and that was why I hadn’t heard anything from her. My hope was that once I smiled at her and said something charming, she would forget my mistakes and forgive me.

I jogged down the stairs and burst out of the back doors on the opposite side of the main kitchen. It wasn’t raining, but there was plenty of mist to give you that overall feeling of moistness.

I took the brick driveway to the far edge of the house.

“Beck,” a voice startled me.

I turned, and there was Van taking pictures of the manor. He was still wearing the same blue hoodie, and his dark goatee and hair looked disheveled.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, quite annoyed. “You’re not allowed on our property.”

“Calm down, sport,” he said, holding up his arm and showing me his left palm. “I told you we’d talk later, and I just wanted to make sure you made it home all right.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Now leave.”

“How’s Mr. Binkers?”

“I threw him away,” I lied. There was no way that I was going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that at this very moment Mr. Binkers was sitting on my dresser looking out the window.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Van said, sounding as if I had just informed him that my best friend had died.

“You can go now,” I said pointing down the driveway.

“I want to help you, Beck,” he pleaded with mock compassion. “If there’s something bothering you I can help.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “There’s this reporter that won’t leave me alone. Can you help me throw him off my property?”

Van laughed, which only made me like him less.

“Seriously,” I added.

“Listen, Beck, you don’t want me off your property,” he said as if he was a hypnotist and he was trying to put me into a trance.

“Stop telling me what I want or how to feel,” I insisted.

“Fine, but you need to understand, I’m cool to you because I like you. But what you did with those dragons was no joke. It’s unbelievable, and the world deserves to know more. Plus, you tore up a town,” he informed me needlessly. “I’m not the enemy; I’m here to help you, champ. I just want to see you and Kingsplot safe. And I want to know what you know. You need me, Beck.”

Now it was my turn to laugh.

“Tell me what happened,” he demanded, his tone suddenly harsh. “Are there more dragons?”

“Dragons aren’t real,” I told him.

I could tell by his trembling hands that he would have liked nothing more than to reach out and grab me, but he took a moment to cool down. “Beck, just what are you up to?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” I said, backing away. “Now go.”

Van closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. When his eyelids opened, he took in a deep breath and smiled. I could see that his teeth were discolored.

“How about I come back later?”

“No thanks,” I told him.

“All right,” he winked. “I’ll catch you later.”

He turned around and started walking down the driveway. He looked back once, and I waved.

“Bye,” I hollered nicely.

I waited until I could no longer see him and then left the driveway and entered the gardens heading toward Kate’s house. I ran halfway across the back gardens, jogged until I reached the partially destroyed conservatory, and then walked quickly the rest of the way. I lost some time when I tripped over a tree root I had not seen and banged up my shin. In total it took about twenty minutes before I saw any sign of Kate’s place.

Kate’s family lived in a large cabin. It had once belonged to my family, but they had sold it to her family years ago. According to Kate, there was some trouble with the sale and since then her parents had not exactly been warm to my family. I had seen her mom and dad a number of times and I could tell that it took everything they had in them to even acknowledge me. I tried to warm them up with my wit and smile, but that always seemed to make things worse.

Kate’s house had a large wooden front door with a metal goat’s head hanging on it. Dangling from the goat’s mouth was a big metal ring that, if swung properly, made a terrific thumping noise on their door. I knew they used the side door more often, but I liked using the knocker so much I always went through the front.

I pounded four times and then stood there like a delivery boy with no goods.

After a few minutes the door swung open and there was Kate’s mother. Kate’s mom was pretty with dark brown hair and a round face. She was thin and always wore shirts with flowers stitched on them. I smiled and waved at her. She didn’t wave back.

“Is Kate home?” I asked.

“You dare?” she bit.

“I do?”

“You almost killed our daughter.”

“I was hoping to apologize,” I explained.

“Apologize? Apologize?”

I wasn’t sure why she said it twice, but I nodded as if her response was extra good.

“Actions speak louder than words,” she snapped.

That just confused me, so I sort of did made-up sign language with my hands as I asked, “Can I speak with Kate?”

“You may not.”

“But Mrs. Figgins, I . . .”

“Don’t Mrs. Figgins me,” she demanded.

“Okay, Laura, then,” I said trying her first name instead. “I just . . .”

I know it’s not really possible, but I think I saw steam coming out of her ears. I wasn’t trying to make her angry, but my personality was doing me in. I decided to stop talking.

“If my husband knew you were here, he’d box your ears,” she raged. “You have been nothing but trouble since the moment you came to town. Now get off our property. The same property your family once tried to cheat us out of.”

She pointed down their driveway and I followed her finger with my gaze. I then looked back to her. I would have tried to say something polite, but my mind was preoccupied with wondering what “box your ears” meant.

Kate’s mom slammed the door.

I stood there for a few seconds and then turned and started down the gravel driveway. I felt bad all of a sudden, and my stomach hurt as a good bit of guilt settled over me. I know I’m not exactly the best kid. I’ve tried at times to at least be acceptable, but it doesn’t come easy for me. I’ve heard people talk. Some say that it’s my confusing upbringing, or that I’m a victim of my environment. But deep down I know it’s really just me. I keep hoping that I’ll grow up to be something respectable, but even I wouldn’t bet on that. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Kate or make her parents mad, but for some reason everything I did seemed to work toward that end. I kept telling myself that I was going to change, but at the end of the day I usually just made things stickier.

“Not this time,” I said aloud to myself. “This time is going to be different.”

I would have been more convincing if, while I was thinking about going straight, I hadn’t turned around, walked through the woods, and circled back around Kate’s house and over to the bushes behind her window. I had a palm filled with small rocks that I was planning to throw to get her attention.

Like I said, don’t bet on me changing too quickly.

I threw one of the small pebbles at Kate’s second-story window. It tinked off the glass and dropped back down onto the ground. I threw two more and they too fell down without a response. I was looking around, contemplating on throwing something bigger when I heard the window open. I glanced up and there she was. Kate was beautiful, some of her red hair was loose in front of her right eye and she had on a blue T-shirt that said “Irish” across the front. There was a smile on her face, but the smile was quickly replaced by a frown.

“Beck,” she said in a hushed tone. “What are you doing here?”

There were a million things I should have said to her, but I went with, “What does ‘box your ears’ mean?”

“What?” she asked confused.

“Your mom said your dad would box my ears.”

“She’s just saying that,” Kate told me. “It means he’ll knock your block off.”

“My block?”

“Your head.”

“Well, that’s not very nice.”

“Beck, is that really why you came to my window?”

“No,” I said, angry with myself for being unable to have a normal conversation. “I came to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she said, looking from side to side. “But I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“I know.”

“You look pretty scratched up,” she said compassionately. “Are all those scratches from the balloon?”

“No,” I answered, staring at my arms. The cuts the vicious flowers had given me had actually healed pretty well. Most of them were kind of hard to see now. “And for the record, I really did think it was a ball we were blowing up. These scratches are from a plant. But that’s not important. I found something.”

“A plant?”

“It’s a long story,” I waved. “But I found something.”

“What?” she asked, sounding irritated. “You find a lot of things.”

“This is different,” I said defensively. “I found a secret passage in the manor. And there was a man.”

“A secret passage?”

I nodded.

“And you found a man?” she added.

“Kinda. Actually I sort of ran into him. He . . .” I was sick of talking up to her window. “Can’t you come out?”

Kate looked from side to side and then behind her. She focused her gaze back down toward me. “I do need to deliver eggs.”

Kate’s family had two huge chicken coops and their chickens produced a lot of eggs. They sold them to locals and a couple of small farmers’ markets in Kingsplot. It was Kate’s job to deliver the eggs to those houses that were not too far from her home.

“So, can you deliver eggs now?” I asked excitedly. “I know Millie ordered some.”

“I’m not sure my dad has them ready.”

“Well, as soon as you can, will you meet me behind my garage?”

“It might be an hour, Beck.”

“Just hurry as fast as possible. I found a secret passage,” I reminded her.

Kate looked around nervously. “Okay, I’ll be there.”

“That’s what I like about you,” I said, smiling.

“You like everything about me,” she reminded me.

She had a good point. Kate closed her window, and I shrank back into the bushes. I was going to just walk home, but I heard Kate’s dad talking loudly to someone on the other side of their house—so I ran a little. I had no desire to lose my head and end up looking like the weather vane on top of the garage house.

Illustration from page 11 of
The Grim Knot

CHAPTER 8

I stood behind the garage for almost half an hour. I became so bored I started to collect pinecones and throw them at things. It was more fun than just standing there, but still nothing great. After the wind blew one of the pinecones back into my face, I decided to do something different. So, I began to climb some of the trees the pinecones had fallen from. The trees had no low branches, making it hard to get started. But I found two trees that were close enough together that I could inch my way up with my hands and feet on one tree and my backside against another. I reached a low branch and pulled myself up to sit on the limb. As I was grabbing the next branch the one I was sitting on snapped. I fell to the ground landing on a bunch of long-dead leaves and soil.

I believe the expression is “Ooooof.”

I stood up and dusted myself off while wondering why I was having such a rough time with trees lately. It seemed as though wherever I went the trees and bushes were reaching out to mess with me.

I stared up at the back of the garage, wondering if it could possibly be any more boring. The stone seemed particularly gray and bland. I was wondering why they never built houses out of colored marbles or actual Legos when Scott, the groundskeeper, came around from between the garage and stables.

He saw me and nodded.

Scott was older than Wane, but younger than Thomas. He had deep, dark eyes and was usually wearing work gloves and a knit cap. He and I sort of got along. It had been him that had tried hardest to keep me away from the conservatory. And it had been his lack of success at doing so which led to me growing dragons and wreaking havoc on Kingsplot. Yes, most of the town blamed me, but I secretly blamed Scott.

“What are you up to?” he asked suspiciously.

“I was trying to climb that tree.” I pointed to the tree that had dropped me. “But I fell. Now I’m bored.”