Glory Alley and the Star Riders (The Glory Alley Series) (5 page)

“
Not 'til you help clean this up!”
R
age cours
ed
through
Glory’s
body.
“
And who are you to call Nana and Grandpa
names
?
You…” She couldn’t think of a good comeback, so went straight for the jugular. “You
stupid
flunk out!”

Brandon lunged
.

Glory yelped and ran around the table, sliding in her socks.
He
circled around to get her, but Glory dove under the table. Brandon knelt
to reach
for her. Glory scooted out the other side then hopped onto the tabletop.

Brandon stood
to grab her ankle.
Glory
shook him off and
dropped to the floor
on the opposite side, using a kitchen chair as
barrier between them.

“
You’re fast for a fat
so
, but not worth the trouble.”

He
muttered something as he flung open the back door, slamming it
behind him.

Her chest heaved as she tried to calm herself
.
Why couldn’t the Alleys get along for just one day? What would mom think if she could see them right now
?
A lump of shame formed in her throat.

Patrice handed her a mop.

The two of them
cleaned
Dad's mess
in silence, lost in their own thoughts.
George plopped down on the floor next to her, taking samples of pumpkin pie from the floor and eating merrily.

“
Me help.
”

She couldn’t help but laugh. Wanting Patrice to stop crying, she tried to make her focus on George’s cuteness
.
“What a helpful little
man you are
.
”
She gushed over George, who smiled and giggled through
a
face full of
pumpkin mush. Patty didn’t even crack a smile
.
No use.

Glory’s mind drifted to the mesa, hoping against
reason
that somehow its legendary riches might
pull them out of the
rut they fell into
after mom died.

Early the next morning
,
when the world was still dark
,
Glory
woke to
the sound of
her father
’s slurred voice
.

“Those
government
liars!”
H
e ranted
.
She recognized the Daily News
program
playing
downstairs
.
“Th
ey
should all be shot.”
M
etal clanged.
He was looking for his gun.
He liked to swing it around, but
he’d never use it
, she was sure
.
Lots of swearing
followed
.

Patrice slept in the twin bed across the aisle, but didn’t stir
.
Seeing her there was un
u
sual these days
.
She had a babysitting gig down the road, where she spent the night with the Miller kids because their parents both worked the night shift
.
Basically, she got paid to sleep there just in case the little kids got sick
,
scared or hurt
.
Easy money
.

“Somebody drank all the gulda
r
n orange juice
!
” Dad yelled from the kitchen
.

Vacation was off to a rocky start
.
Yesterday
—
no
Harvest Day
feast
.
Today
—
Mean Dad angry a
t the world
.

I gotta get out
of
here
, she decided.

Glory tiptoed in the dark around
her
second-story bedroom,
trad
ing
puppy dog pajamas for a pair of
jeans
and a
light
gray
windbreaker with a hood
.
She wasn’t sure where she
would go,
what she
would
do until thirteen-hundred-hours sharp, but anything was better than staying around the house.

She couldn’t
leave
fast enough
—
first stopping at
the barn for spelunking gear
—
then
running across the stubbly field
to
the woods
.

Once in the safety of the trees she took a rusty miner’s hat out of the bag
,
placed it on her head
, l
etting the strap dangle
. The
light
on top of her head lit the way.

Readjusting the pack across her back
, she
kept walking until the trees gave way to
a desolate dirt road
.
The more
space
she put between her
self
and
her home,
the better she felt
.

Golden sunlight spread across ruby red and golden treetops
.
Beautiful, she thought,
switching off the headlamp,
feeling
a little more
optimistic as
her
b
reaths turned to frosty clouds
.

The pack of spelunking gear slung over her shoulder got heavier by the minute, but
she
didn’t mind.
Halting a moment, she
squint
ed
at the solitary flat
-
topped mountain in the distance, Queen’s Mesa.
It towered over the surrounding forest, looking regal and cold, while Tullah’s
second
moon hovered above like a cosmic scoop of vanilla ice cream.
Delicious,
thought Glory, but she had one more thing to do before the climb.

A wrought iron fence came into view
.
She walked its perimeter, clinking a stick along the rails as she went, stopping at a set of curly black gates secured by a chain and padlock, which stopped cars from entering but not
kids
.
The extra weight around her middle ma
de for a tight squeeze between the metal slats, but a moment later
,
Glory
stood in Cloverdale Acres, Resting Place of the Dearly Departed.

Rows of tombstones stretched as far as the eye could see
.
She walked among them until reaching the back of the cemetery, where the poor folks were laid to rest and tombstones were scarce. It
tormented
Glory that her mother’s remains rested here with nothing more than a bare patch of dirt to mark her passing.

Mom had been gone almost four years, but the day of the funeral seemed like yesterday. Glory had stood in front of the casket
,
and when nobody was looking
,
she
climbed over the side to kiss her dead mother. Prepared for the soft warmth of skin, she was shocked to touch cold hard flesh instead. The anguish of reliving that moment she had tried so hard to forget stuck in her throat. At the time
,
she thought that her mother had turned into stone. She couldn’t sleep at night wondering if someday she’d suffer the same fate. But over time, the more Glory had pondered how death transformed a person into a rock, the less she fretted about it. After all, she loved rocks. They didn't care what anybody thought, nor did they feel pain or fear. And unlike mothers, rocks lasted forever.

As Glory approached the resting place, her face pinched when she saw
that
the monument of loose stones she’d built over the plot was gone.

“Stupid, rotten
,
groundskeeper,” she muttered. “Why can’t he just leave it be?
”

She took off the miner’s hat, letting
loose
a
thick
brown ponytail, and then sat down cross-legged atop the grave.

“Mom,” she whispered into the breeze. “Can you hear me?
”
Her mother never answered, but Glory held out against reason that some
day she might.
“Maybe you already know
,
but things are worse at home
.
Brandon’s grades are so bad he might not graduate
.
Ever s
ince Patrice turned sixteen
,
all she does is cry and I don’t know why
.
Randy and Danny,
as far as I know
nothing’s changed with them
—
they’re still idiots. And little George, he seems fine to me, but Nana says he’s behind for his age
,
needs to see a specialist, which as usual we can’t afford
.
As for
Dad, well, the roof is sagging, taxes are overdue
,
the crops did lousy this year,
and h
e’s
drinking
again
.”