Extraordinary October (7 page)

But I didn't have to. With the leader out of commission the others stopped attacking. They flew over to the stunned—or I hoped, dead—crow lying on the ground and circled randomly like foreign tourists without a guide.

Walker turned to me. I saw the scratch down his arm. It was bleeding.

“Your arm,” I said.

He ignored it and pulled me around behind a tree. “You were amazing,” he said. He inspected me all over, up and down, my face, my arms. He even turned me around, pushed my hair to one side and scrutinized my neck. His breath was warm. I leaned back into him.

“You're really okay?” he asked.

“I'm sorry about your arm.”

“It's nothing.”

He felt so good. He didn't make me all jittery like Trevor did and I didn't feel like doing crazy things. Did it mean I was a slut because I was thinking about two guys at once? I turned and he put his arms around me. I breathed in his sweet smell. He patted my back. Then he was kind of stroking. From comforting me, he was progressing toward something else. I was ready. I lifted my face for a kiss. An older guy would be good at it, perfect for my first. And Walker was perfect in so many ways.

“No.” He pushed me away. “We can't do this.”

“You're not that much older.”

“It's not that.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“C'mon.” He didn't answer my question. He never answered my questions. “Before that crow wakes up.” He started pulling me toward the parking lot.

“School's that way,” I said.

“Can't go back to school.”

“Those crows are done.”

“It's not the crows I'm worried about.”

As he said that, we both heard footsteps crunching in the gravel at the edge of the park. I turned. Through the brush I saw a figure. Two figures, then three and four. They walked upright, but they were blobby, brown and gray, their bodies and heads indistinct. People in some disturbing costume. One and then another bordered the park.

I stumbled, pointing, backing toward Walker. He nodded. He had seen them too.

“I didn't want to do this,” he said. He grabbed my arm, turned abruptly and started running, pulling me, straight for the brick wall of the school building.

I had to run with him or I would fall. “No!”

“Trust me!”

“No!”

He yanked me with him. I was sure we would do a face plant into the brick and I shut my eyes. Just as I steeled myself for serious pain, I fell forward and there was a warm liquid kind of feeling, but dry too, like I was falling through very fine, heated, sand. Walker wasn't holding me anymore. I was swimming, circling my arms. I began to panic and the try to scream and the sand filled my mouth. I was choking. I couldn't breathe. I was going to pass out when I landed on my ass on the ground.

I heard someone laughing. I opened my eyes and was momentarily blinded by the sun. When I could see again, I was shocked to discover I was back in the front of the school, sitting in the empty quad.

“Have a nice trip?” Jacob snorted as he ran by. “See you next fall.”

“How original.” I got to my feet.

The late bell rang. I was so confused. My head hurt. Where was Walker? How had I gotten here? What exactly was going on?

And then Trevor was by my side.

“That was quite a fall,” he said. “I think you were knocked out for a minute.”

“I fell?” The last thing I remembered was the wall, and before that those costumed attackers, and before that the crows. The crows.

He pointed at a stone sticking out of the grass. “You hit your head on that. You might have a concussion.”

I reached up and felt the bump on my forehead. Great. Just as my crow scratch was going away.

He brushed the hair off my face and smiled at me so tenderly my knees felt weak. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms.

“I wish I'd been here to catch you,” he said.

“But I saw you get in your car.”

He looked at me like I was nuts. He touched the bump on my forehead and winced. “That is really going to hurt later.”

“But—” I turned to the parking lot. There was his car parked where it had been. And Walker was nowhere to be seen. I was having a definite Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz moment. “But it couldn't have been a dream. It seemed so real. And Walker was there. And you were. And the crows.”

“Who's Walker?”

“Wow. I really am losing it,” I said.

I thought about the voice I'd imagined the night before. And then I remembered the rest: that Luisa was missing and that Trevor had asked me to go find her with him and Walker had said some weird things and he and Trevor had fought—over me. That really couldn't be true. My eyes filled with tears.

“You hit your head pretty hard.”

He kept his arm around me as we went up the steps into school.

“What happened to you last night?” I asked. “You disappeared when Jeb hit my car.”

Ms. Tannenbaum appeared out of nowhere. “October Fetterhoff!” she shouted. “Late again?”

“I fell.”

“It's always something with you. Detention. Again. Today.”

I opened my mouth, but she crossed her arms, daring me to object. I said nothing. She watched as Trevor and I split off to our respective classes, Trevor whispering he'd see me in English. Of course she hadn't given Trevor detention. Only me. What a witch. First Luisa, now Trevor. Tannenbaum obviously hated me.

I made a quick stop in the bathroom to wipe my tears. I looked at myself in the smeared mirror. I looked good despite the bump on my head, no sleep, a very quick shower, and not doing anything that morning but brush my hair. It was shiny and curled softly around my face. My eyes looked larger than usual and my lashes longer even though I wasn't wearing any makeup. My leg itched and I pulled up the leg of my jeans and the flower shaped bruise was almost glowing. It was actually pretty, like a sunflower on my ankle. I scratched and scratched and it was warm under my fingers.

I heard the voice again, but this time it was gentler, friendlier. “You know where Luisa is,” it said. “You know.”

There was no one else in the bathroom. I shook my head as I sprinted to class. My very loud inner voice was full of crap. Luisa's disappearance was not my fault and I didn't know where she was.

8.

I was surprised when no one in school even mentioned Luisa missing. It was true she didn't come to class very often, but people liked her when she was there. At least no one was talking about my itch anymore. I went from first period to second and then third and thought about Tannenbaum and detention—again. Okay, gym class was lame, but at least I showed up and I never, not once, used my period as an excuse. Personally, I think that sets women back 100 years. I mean it happens every month—time to deal with it, ladies. But Tannenbaum really did not like me and so I didn't like her. It was so nice and easy to be pissed off about something so normal like the PE teacher and detention, because when I thought about Walker and the dream or vision or whatever I'd had when I hit my head on the rock I felt sick to my stomach.

As Ms. Lani, the biology teacher, droned on, I looked through the window and saw Walker's beautiful silver Porsche pull up in the parking lot. I saw him get out of his car. I had to talk to him. Immediately. I had to. I didn't raise my hand or anything, just said, “Excuse me,” and ran out of the room.

“Walker!” I was well aware my entire class—including the teacher—could see me in the parking lot. I tried not to look like a crazy person, but I was feeling pretty nuts.

“I want to talk to you.”

Walker didn't seem surprised. He turned his startling blue eyes to me and smiled. “Great.”

“Don't,” I said.

“Don't what?”

Don't be so sweet, I wanted to say. Don't be so cute. Definitely don't touch me and make me feel all loose and Jello-y. But I couldn't say that to him. “Did anything happen this morning?”

He looked puzzled.

“Did we talk? Did you have a fight with Trevor?”

“I just got here.” He looked calm and clean, not as if we'd been running through the woods and fighting crows. “Your poor head. Now what?” He reached for my forehead and touched the bump with one finger.

That touch. Like warm syrup running through my veins. I remembered his arms around me in what had to be my dream, the way he inspected every part of me to see if I was okay, the way we almost kissed. Had to be a dream. Had to be. I shook my head. “Sorry,” I said.

Then he ran his hands through his hair and the sleeve of his button down shirt pulled back and I saw the long, raw scrape down his arm.

“Your arm,” I said.

For a second his face shifted, blanched as if he'd been caught, but returned to normal so quickly I couldn't be sure I'd seen anything. “What?” he asked.

“That's quite a scrape.”

“You're not the only klutz around.” He laughed and pulled his sleeve down. “I tripped.”

He was lying. I knew it. But if the morning had happened, then how did I end up in the grass? I was dizzy. “I have to sit down.”

He caught me as I swayed and led me to the curb.

“I don't feel well,” I said.

“Take deep breaths,” he instructed. “Slowly.”

I breathed. I looked up at him, but he was scanning the sky. My stomach lurched. “Looking for crows?” I asked.

He squatted in front of me. “Please,” he said, “Please stay away from Trevor.”

His face was so serious, so beautiful, almost shining in the sunlight. I thought of Trevor and he was dark and mysterious and yes, kind of sexy in an earthy way. “Okay,” I said even though I wasn't sure I should. I wobbled to my feet. “I'll stay away from him—for today—but then you have to tell me what is really going on.”

“I will,” Walker said. “Trust me.”

That again. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

The rest of the day passed uneventfully except Ms. Lani gave me detention for running out of class to “talk to a boy.” I didn't tell her I already had detention, and I hoped she wouldn't find out.

The fireflies were out again in the empty lot as I rode the bus home at sunset. They were the highlight of an otherwise sucky day. I did get out a couple stops early so I could see them up close, but I didn't skip or twirl. I apologized for not being as excited as the day before, but I didn't imagine them saying anything back. I dragged my butt down my street. My headache throbbed. I wanted to go inside and collapse in front of the TV, but I still had to write that stupid paper on WWI.

Madame Gold's black Ferrari was in our driveway. I groaned. I was not in the mood. And my mom still wasn't home so it would just be my dad, the loony hypnotist, and me. I couldn't face sitting there listening to her crapola.

I went around the house and let myself in silently through the back door hoping to avoid them. The kitchen was dark. I sniffed. Nothing cooking. Dad hadn't done anything about dinner and I was starving. In fact, the bowl with the pancake batter, the plates, and the dirty skillet were still exactly where he had left them that morning. I saw his uneaten pancake on his plate on the counter. Was it only that morning I'd sat there and watched him not eat? It felt like ages ago. He had never eaten his pancake and there was batter left in the bowl. He was definitely not his old self. I opened the refrigerator and grabbed an apple. I took a jar of peanuts off the counter. It was almost six o'clock, but it didn't seem dinner would be anytime soon. I could hear Dad and Madame Gold talking in the birdhouse room, but their voices were so low I couldn't quite make out what they were saying. I tiptoed out of the kitchen hoping I could get up to my room without being noticed.

“It is more important than ever,” Madame Gold was saying, “that you keep her on your side. Keep her close to you.”

Dad sounded like he was whining in reply, but I only caught a few words, “family,” and “mother,” and then, “stolen.”

“Luisa was the only choice.”

They were talking about Luisa. Without thinking, I charged into the den. “What about Luisa? Do you have any news?”

Dad looked guilty—he hadn't known I was home—but Madame Gold nodded. “I thought I heard you come in,” she said. “It is too bad about your friend. I heard about her—on the radio.”

“Anything new?”

Madame Gold gave me that simpering, sad, but condescending smile that grown ups use like a pat on the head. And she was hardly a grown up. I really disliked her.

In her low, carefully modulated, hypnotist's voice she said, “I'm sorry, no. But the universe works in mysterious ways, October. Everything happens for a reason.”

“Don't spout that baloney at me.”

“October!”

I turned and got a good look at Dad. He had lost weight. Already. He looked thinner and his hair was a mess, sort of spiky around his head, not in his usual slicked back, combed and parted immaculate style.

“Dad?” I was worried.

“I feel better than I have in years,” Dad said. “All thanks to Madame Gold. Please apologize to her.”

“It's not important.” She hummed at me. “Join us. Sit down.”

My head ached and a wave of nausea undulated through me. I put out my hands to steady myself and they were covered with red welts. I could feel the itch beginning, this time on my chest and stomach. I had to get out of there. “Homework,” I croaked. “Lots of homework.”

I ran up the stairs to my room and shut the door behind me. I opened the window and gulped in the fresh air. I felt better. I needed to eat, I decided. I hadn't been hungry at lunch and hadn't eaten anything since that one pancake. I shook a handful of peanuts out of the jar and ate them one by one, forcing myself to relax. The blotches on my hands looked like enormous bug bites, only they didn't itch, they burned. I looked in the mirror on the back of my door and saw there were welts on my neck as well. I lifted my shirt and saw them on my stomach too. I peeled off my jeans. There were red stripes all across my legs, as if I'd been grilled on the barbecue. Great, just great. First an itch, now some disgusting rash. Maybe Nurse Raynor was right and it was mange or, I shuddered, body lice.

I threw on my softest, loosest pajama pants and my comfiest T-shirt. I sat down on the floor with my laptop. I ran my fingers over the silly, childish ladybug sticker my mom had given me. I missed her. I knew she loved her work—Dad called her the Queen of Mushrooms—but I was sorry she was so busy right now. I wanted her home. I wanted her to meet Madame Gold so we could hate her together.

My phone chimed signifying a text. I pulled it out of my backpack and read the screen:

Hi October. My name's Enoki. Where are you?

I typed back: Home.

ENOKI: Come out and play?

I'd hung around with my mom enough to know Enoki was the common name of a kind of exotic mushroom. I didn't know anybody with that name and it was definitely odd, but maybe she—or he—loved fungi as much as my mother. Anyway, who was I to say anyone's name was unusual.

Me: Who are you?

ENOKI: Your BFF.

Me: Sorry. That position is empty.

ENOKI: Not anymore. Come outside. I'm waiting.

Me: Outside my house?

ENOKI: Don't let that crazy hypnotist see you leave.

I jumped back from the computer. I turned off my light. Enoki, whoever she/he was, was right outside, possibly able to see in my window. I closed the computer so my room was completely dark and crept to the window. I peeked out. The street looked empty. Where was she/he? How did she/he know about Madame Gold? I sat on the floor and texted.

Me: How do I know you?

ENOKI: Think of me as an early birthday present.

I had no idea what that meant. I was tempted to go out there and meet this person, find out what it was all about, but then I remembered that saying: curiosity killed the cat. And that made me think of the dead cat in my side yard and the crows coming after me, at least once, even if the second time hadn't been real. I typed a reply.

Me: I'm staying in tonight.

No response. I waited and waited, but no more messages came. I figured I had discouraged Enoki and I was okay with that. I really had to write that paper. Then I heard the little chime again.

ENOKI: Trevor sent me.

Me: Really?

ENOKI: Let's go save Luisa. I know where she is.

A shiver went down my spine all the way to my feet. My logical, mature, intelligent self knew I should call the cops. But my reckless, curious, completely stupid self was already putting on my sneakers. We all want to be heroes, right?

I dropped my phone on my bed, opened my window, and popped out the screen. I'd never had a reason to sneak out, but I knew I could. All I had to do was go out my window, sidestep across the roof with my feet in the gutter, jump over to the orange tree, and climb down. Without my father or Madame Gold hearing me. And without falling off the roof and breaking my neck. Problem was, I was scared of heights. The glass elevator at the mall made me queasy. A photograph of a person standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon—a photograph—was hard for me to look at. Still, I had to do it. I had to find out if this Enoki person really could take me to Luisa. I tied my Converse extra tight. I swung one leg out the window, then the other. I rolled over on my stomach and wiggled back until my feet felt the gutter. I scuttled along the roof. That part wasn't too hard and my back was to the drop behind. Then I had to turn around and jump to the tree. The branch was close, but not that close. I teetered. I was definitely going to fall. I tottered. I fell, but just in time I caught the branch, scratching my hands and chin as I did. I was breathing hard as I hung there. All I had to do was let go. How far was it to the ground? I wasn't sure, but it felt very, very far. I looked down. Not so bad. And I let go.

I survived. I hit the ground right beside the window where my dad and Madame Gold were still having their session or whatever. I peeked inside. My dad was sitting in a folding chair with his eyes closed and Madame Gold was standing behind him whispering into his ear. He was barefoot—a very rare occurrence—and his narrow white feet with the crazy long toes were tapping and bopping, like mine on the bus going home the day before. And he looked thinner than when I'd first come in. Madame Gold flapped her big sleeves across his face and he smiled kind of sleepily. I couldn't watch anymore.

It was chilly and a breeze blew right up my pajama legs. Pajamas! I'd been in such a hurry I'd forgotten my jeans—and my phone! I started for the tree to climb back up.

“No time for that.”

I jumped a foot in the air. A girl stepped out of the shadows right beside me. She was not as tall as me, but in her sleeveless tank top and skintight jeans I could see how strong she was. I understood why they said body builders were ‘sculpted' as I looked at her backlit by the street lamp. Her muscular arms almost didn't look real. Then she stepped forward and I could smell her: muddy, moldy—like pond scum.

I must have made a face. “C'mon,” she said, “Deal with it.”

“Ever heard of showers?”

“Do you want to find Luisa or not?”

“Who are you?”

“I'm Trevor's little sister.” She put her hands on her boyish hips and looked me up and down. “I don't see what makes you so special.”

She pulled me into the light from the street lamp. She turned me, lifted an arm, almost my shirt.

I pushed her hands away. “Cut it out.”

“You look like an average, ordinary, boring human to me.”

What a b-i-t-c-h. “Are we going to meet Trevor?”

“Car's this way.” She headed off and I trotted to keep up.

Where do you go to school?” I asked.

“Homeschooled,” she said.

With a body odor like hers, I was not surprised. She sped up, expecting me to follow, which I did. I noticed that she wasn't wearing shoes and that her feet looked enormous and her toes as flexible as fingers. Like monkey feet. Her hands were huge too. There was something of Trevor in her. Her muscles. Her pointed chin. Her large brown eyes. Her dark, shaggy hair as if she and Trevor used the same dull pair of scissors for their haircuts.