Connor (8 page)

We climbed into Byron's Range Rover toward their neighborhood. It was about a thirty-minute drive, riding mostly in silence, probably stressed about what to expect. I was thinking about wanting to find answers, Willow about not wanting to find answers, Byron about something rational, Tony about something irrational, and Cheyenne probably about which animal she should kill next.

We took a winding road near the cliff by the shore. The road was wide enough for another car to pass, but it seemed for a Friday night, hardly anyone was out or most likely headed toward the city.

We reached the border of their town, and already I could see the homes driving in, and they were amazing. Willow was not exaggerating about where they came from. The homes were extravagant.

Most were set back behind gated fences with armed guards or coded keypads. It was right out of fashion magazines Angela, Hope, and I read, hoping to own ourselves one day. It made my neighborhood look frumpy.

Okay, so I get some of what she was saying. I probably couldn't even begin to comprehend the pressures they have to put up with, but they are still just like Tony and me, and that is what we came here to find out—how.

We finally arrived at his grandfather's home, and his too was behind a gated fence but with a keypad for access and a booth for a guard, but that sat empty. Not sure if that was luck or not, but I will take it.

“Hey, Byron, aren't they going to know the gate has opened?” I asked.

“Yes, but I sometimes crash here, so Hanna won't think anything of it. I will park in the garage behind the house, then sneak you inside so if you see any staff members, please hide as quickly as possible. They do roam at night for whatever reason.”

Byron punched in a code, and the gate opened up for us. As we drove up, we passed tall sculptures surrounded by flowers that I have never seen before, unlike your typical roses. There was a bench next to a bridge crossing over a small pond. There were topiary shrubs and hedges in many different shapes and sizes. There were high statues elegantly placed, and I can only imagine hidden paths in the gardens that I would love to explore.

When his house came more visible, it was more like a grand castle than a house. It was made of gray stone, with bricks strategically placed in the center of each corner. Huge stained-glass windows were used along the top floor. Green vines covered the corners in the front of the castle. I felt like we went back into time.

There was even a water fountain in the middle of the cobblestone driveway about fifty feet from the front door. This place was stunning. If I were not here to see it myself, I would not believe it. I had to wonder, even if I had all the money in the world, why on earth would I need a place this big?

We turned left, passing the castle, a clearing, then turned right, meeting up to a path that led us along high bushes to our left. We followed the path into complete darkness other than the car headlights.

Eventually, we drove into a five-car garage and parked. Byron handed us each flashlights from a box on a shelf in case we needed them, then we headed toward the back door.

Not able to get into the main house through the back garage, we had to walk outside to reach the main house. There wasn't much lighting from the house, and the woods were behind us. I was just hoping no one would catch us.

We followed Byron inside, walking as quietly possible, down a hallway passing a little room to the left that appeared to be a break room.

We kept going straight until it eventually opened up into a large sitting area to the left. The room decorated conservatively with tall plants in each corner, old paintings of stuffy-looking men, other small furnishings, and naked statues. It reminded me of a museum.

On the right of us were two huge cherry-wood doors with little round windows big enough to look through. Not able to help myself, I peeped through each. Each door encased a kitchen, one larger than the other was.

I cracked the door to the second kitchen to see that it was huge, with cherry-wood paneling that had silver and black as the primary colors. There were so many silver cooking utensils, six wooden islands to prepare food on, five black stoves to cook, and four huge silver sinks to clean. Oh my goodness, what a feast this place could dream up.

Not paying attention, someone covered my mouth, grabbed me, and dragged me behind a secluded statue in the corner. It was Tony manhandling me.

I tried to free myself until I heard someone coming. I could see through the statue's arm it was a young woman carrying a silver tray with a used, milky glass and a half-eaten sandwich on a plate. She was probably carrying someone's midnight snack.

When she passed by and went into the smaller kitchen, Tony uncovered my mouth, and we both took a breath. We were in such a small spot, he pressed up against me. We didn't move while we were waiting for her to leave.

It started to get claustrophobic in such a tight spot. Couldn't he have found a bigger one? Please, lady, would you hurry up? I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths, trying to relax, but all I could focus on was Tony's scent. He always smelled good.

I felt his heart beating erratically fast, so I opened my eyes to see if he was okay, only to find him staring at me. He just kept staring, not saying anything. It started to feel warm, a little too warm, in that tiny space we barely fit. He started squeezing my arms tightly, I couldn't move. I went from barely breathing to breathing hard. The heat that was rising off us was almost unbearable, but he wouldn't let me move.

His eyes, his eyes glowed yellow. Is that what I looked like?

“Tony…” was the only sound that escaped me before he left me standing there. What was that? I heard about raging teen hormones, but that seemed more like crazy teen hormones. Why did his eyes…

“Come on,” Cheyenne said, watching me. “What is wrong with you? Are you trying to get us caught?” She was whispering, but it came across more as a hiss.

“No, let's go,” I said, waving for her to proceed. She looked like she wanted to say something at first but thought better of it and walked off.

Trying to keep up with her long-legged strides, I had to ask, “What's your problem?” Big mistake, I regretted it as soon as it came out, not what I said, only the time and place.

She swung around so fast I had to catch myself, so as not to slam into her. “I'm so sick and tired of your innocent naïve act, making sure Tony has to pine all over you.”

“You jealous little witch. He doesn't pine over me. It's not my fault he doesn't want…”

“You stupid, stupid girl, don't be so simple. I don't want him because if I did, he would be mine. We are good friends, so it is my job to protect him from girls like you. You play all innocent, but something about you I don't trust…” Cheyenne snapped.

“You must have me confused with yourself because you know nothing about me, and this little tough act you got going on doesn't scare me one bit, so don't think for one second I won't take you on. You can lie to yourself all you want, but it's obvious you're pining away for him.”

“What is going on out here?” Byron stepped out of the dark. “This is supposed to be a secret mission, remember, not girls gone wild. You two are going to wake everybody up.”

Willow showed up soon after Byron did and gave Cheyenne a look, then put her hands on her hips. I had a feeling she knew exactly what was going on.

“Let's go,” Byron said walking off, he made a right just past the sitting room, turning on his flashlight, and we followed suit. He led us down a flight of stairs winding left, ending at another long dark hallway so Byron turned on the lights making it extremely bright.

The walls were canary yellow and covered with old paintings. We passed several smaller sitting rooms similar to upstairs. The hallway went on forever, passing door after door until we saw a lit room off to the left, which was the last room of the hall. Stacked boxes and old furniture filled the room.

Tony was in the back of the room, moving boxes, and glanced at the rest of us, confused. His glare stopped in Cheyenne's direction, and he didn't look pleased.

I couldn't believe I was baited into an argument over a guy. I hate girls who fight over guys, but there was no way I will let Cheyenne think she can walk all over me.

As soon as the guys started moving the boxes in front of a door we needed to get to, I told them to step aside and let me do it. I moved the boxes that were blocking the door, then stepped back. I set on doing this and getting out of here. It is amazing what you can do with a focused mind.

Byron turned on the lights and yes, you guessed it—it was a dark, dank room, filled with numerous green-and-black metal filing cabinets along the walls and stacks of papers in the middle of the room on two wooden desks.

The room was unnecessarily huge, covered with pale white walls without windows, puke-green tiled floor, and as luck would have it, no chairs. At least the temperature down here was all right.

“Well, I don't really know where to begin, guys, so start anywhere,” Byron suggested.

No one said a word as we set off in opposite directions. I went to the far left until I came upon a big black filing cabinet that was open and got to work.

It seemed like we were there for hours, searching for something, praying for anything. By now, everyone had gotten comfortable by sitting either on the floor or by leaning against cabinets with shoes off. I wondered if they were feeling hopeless like me but refused to ask.

Finally, someone spoke up, and surprisingly it was Willow. “I think I found something.” Everyone dropped what they were doing and ran over to her, asking questions at once.

Her bubbly demeanor quickly turned distressing. “It says something about Byron being adopted from a place called the Caring House.” She handed Byron a green folder.

“Let me see that. I'm adopted?” He took the papers from Willow to look them over.

“Well, actually if you think about it, it fits with what your grandfather said to you, thinking you were your dad. Remember 'bringing evil into this family'? Maybe he meant you were the evil your father brought in through adoption,” Tony said.

Byron gave Tony a look like “really, man.” “Yes, thanks for reminding me because I almost forgot.”

We all, except Byron, dug in that general area until we found folders on each of us and one other. It seems as if adoption was the case for the rest of us as well.

Inside was a copy of certificates of adoption sixteen years ago, all from this place called the Caring House. On the top of each certificate were the same six names, names we had never heard of or seen before, with each of our parents' signatures.

Most of the paperwork in the folders was written in this bizarre handwriting we didn't understand, maybe some kind of shorthand. We couldn't read any of the other pages because we simply couldn't figure out what type of script it was. It was the strangest thing I had ever seen.

“This doesn't make any sense. I wasn't born yet. How could I have been at this place?” I asked no one in particular, not wanting to believe.

“Maybe it's not right, you know, inaccurate. My parents couldn't have adopted me sixteen years ago. This is not real,” Willow said, tossing her folder in the air.

“Think about it, Willow. You always said that you felt different from your family, and believe me, I can relate,” Cheyenne said, bending down to pick up the papers Willow tossed. I was shocked.

“Me too,” Tony said.

“No, I don't believe it. What's the chances of us all getting adopted at the same time, and why does your grandfather have these folders on us and others anyway, Byron?” Willow's whole body was trembling as she spoke calmly, almost too calmly. “Oh my god, your grandfather has so much power and control over everything, it's frightening. Is it because he made a deal with the devil, or is he the devil himself? Which is it, Byron?” she shouted at him.

You could hear the electricity build up inside of her. We all slowly stepped back from her, but when her hands went up, we barely had time to get out of the way before electricity shot across the room.

We hid behind cabinets, yelling for her to calm down. Metal, not a good place for hiding, but our options were limited.

I tried keeping the bolts from hitting anyone by diverting them to the walls, but I was not able to catch them all. A couple of cabinets flew into walls, and some papers caught fire. This was a disaster. How is no one upstairs hearing this?

Byron caught my attention and nodded toward Willow. He, being the quickest, was going to try to get to her. So if I missed diverting a bolt, he can get out of dodge quickly.

He ran over, tackled her, and eventually calmed her down. Whatever he said must have worked because there were no more lightning bolts.

Once the coast was clear, we walked over to them. Byron was telling Willow, “I'm sorry, but we all agreed,

no matter what, we would accept the answers we find. We are all in this together. You are not alone, and right now nothing has to change.”

“Yes, it does. I'm sorry, Willow, but we can't stop here. I need to know more about my real family. I need to know more now that we found these folders,” Cheyenne said.

“Right, and what about that boy who attacked Connor in school? According to the last folder, his name could be Scott Dasher, but who's to say your grandfather has all the folders? There could be others,” Tony said.

I was about to add to what Tony said, but something caught my attention. There was a folder on the floor next to me titled the Deckers. It must have flown out of the cabinet Willow struck.

I grabbed it up, hoping I was wrong. Flipping through the pages, my worst fears came true Angela Decker, my best friend's family, was somehow involved, but how?

There were pages of that stupid gibberish I couldn't make out, but upon flipping through it, I found another certificate of adoption. It was not Angela's name but Vincent, her adopted brother who went missing twelve years ago. He was four when he disappeared.

Oh no, do my parents know about me? Will the rest of us go missing too? Does Angela know about me? It could explain why she needs to know everything I do.

“What, Connor, what?” Byron asked.

I explained what I found, who Vincent was, and how nobody knows what happened to him. Angela searches for his name every so often, but it's like he vanished.

“Connor may be right because lately I had a strong feeling I'm being followed,” Cheyenne said.

“Me too,” I confessed. “I don't mean the boy from school but everywhere, and for a long time now.”

“Are we the only ones?” Cheyenne asked. Byron admitted he has felt it too, but Tony and Willow said they haven't noticed.

We all agreed it was time to go. Now feeling rushed, we agreed to make some calls regarding the Caring House and, next weekend, no matter what, go visit it.

Byron reassured us that the basement was soundproof, and a war could have erupted and no one upstairs would have heard a thing. He said he would come back tomorrow early with helpers to clean up.

The ride back home was quiet. We came here for answers and ended up with more questions than before.

Sneaking back into my house, I noticed Mrs. Palmer had her lights on. I don't think that woman ever slept. She had company, but who knows, it could be her husband since you never see him. He supposedly works for some huge company overseas and comes home twice a month. I never really paid them much attention.

By the time I snuck back in and climbed into bed, it was 4:00 a.m. Even as exhausted as I was, I couldn't help wonder about the unanswered questions, and what did Byron's grandfather have to do with this?

Most of all, I'm adopted.