Glory Alley and the Star Riders (The Glory Alley Series) (9 page)

Slowly s
he opened the zipper.

And there
,
n
estled
among the coils of
rope
,
was
t
he magnificent stone.

Glory
dropped
to her knees.
S
he
l
icked her lips an
d braced for another light show, but w
hen she pulle
d it out of the bag
there was
no explosion, no
pleasure or pain,
not
even
a single spark.

Tension drained, yet she felt crushed at the same time. Easing
herself into a seated position
, she
set the
s
tone in
her
lap,
r
esting on
e palm on
its cool surface
.
W
hat if
its
powers only
worked only at certain times?

“Wh
at are you?
”
she asked the stone.

At first glance
,
the rock’s surface had an onyx hue. Under the dim sunlight, more colors emerged. Depending on how the thing was rotated, blacks, grays and blues merged and separated from one another.

Indigo was its true color, she decided. It had a silky feel, yet seemed hard as metal. Fancying herself a
budd
ing geologist, Glory held the rock to eye level and got out a magnifying glass.

First guess was that it was slate, but that was ruled out quickly. No visible crystals. No visible grains or veins. Her tongue flicked from one corner of her mouth to the other as her brain worked. The rock was made of lightweight material. Could it be lava rock
?
Maybe, there’s no bubbles, but sometimes lava rock doesn’t have any. She rubbed it with sandpaper from the bag. No particles came loose. Could it be marble? No, too light.

Is it hollow
?
She rapped on it with knuckles, but it gave a solid thud. Weird, but no matter, she thought, some mysteries aren’t meant to be solved right away.

Glory hurried through the woods as fast as her sore ankle allowed. A sagging section of barbed wire fence marked the Alley property line. After a few minutes
,
the trees met cleared ground. Across a field of winter wheat she went until a red barn loomed dead ahead.

“Home at last.”

She swung open
heavy
double doors
and stepped inside
. The sweet smell of fresh hay wafted to her nose. Even in the day
,
the barn was full of shadows. With a flick of the switch
,
the overhead lights buzzed to life. The exposed rafters, darkened with time, spoke of ages past. The empty
horse
stalls were prime spots to catch a nap or read a book. Old lanterns, sickles, pitchforks
,
and shovels h
ung
on nails and pegs
.
Her eyes traveled up the steep loft ladder to the dark space above where she normally stashed her spelunking gear.

Her mind went back to her miner’s hat on the forest floor. She was already regretting her
hasty decision to throw it away. Not that she
would
ever need it again. Still, the hat had been with her a l
ong time, had protected her well, so it seemed somehow
wrong to cast it aside like that. Sigh. She
climbed into the loft
without it
.

The wooden crates there, once used for transporting eggs, served as secret storage. She dropped the backpack into an empty crate, thinking about its contents. Should I
?

Glory wanted to see the indigo stone one more time, but there were chores to do
.
She buried it under a pile of burlap sacks and plastic tarps. On top of that, she placed a couple of bricks, plus a spare flashlight and extra batteries. For good measure
,
she placed another tarp over everything and sprinkled straw over the top.

Down the ladder
Glory
went
,
to the feed barrel
, where she
fill
ed
cans with grain. Outside Dad had fashioned a ten-foot tall run from spare lumber. It was completely surrounded by chicken wire, giving the hens and roosters access from the coop to the outdoors. Inside the run
,
chickens were safe from
winged pred
ators and creatures
on four feet.
As she
worked
,
j
ust thinking about
the stone
made her feel woozy and dreamy.

Glory opened the gate and tossed feed around the ground. She carried several buckets of water back and forth from the pump to the metal trough inside the run. She latched the gate behind
her
before returning the buckets to the barn. Flicking the lights off on the way out, she headed across the barnyard to the house
.

The
only person
there
to greet her was George.

“Gwo-wee
, hi,
”
h
e said
.
“Hungry.”

“Me too.”

She led him down the hall by the hand
.
While other families were probably lying around
after
an afternoon of gorging
on leftovers from their feasts
, the Alley kitchen was spotless
.
Covered in rock dust, she washed her hands at the sink,
and
then used a wet paper towel to wipe her face
.

“Let’s see what we got.”
She opened the kitchen door while George peered around her
legs
sucking his thumb.
Rifling through shelves
she was pleasantly surprised to see that
more food survived tha
n
expected.
Some meat
had
got
ten
pushed to the back so everybody
had
missed it.

“Hey, hey, hey. Georgee Poo,” she said happily
.
“
We’re gonna eat good.
”
She rearranged the vegetable platter to spy something crusty
.
“Oooo,” she cooed
.
“
A
pple pie
.
It’s squashed, but that doesn’t bother
us—does it
?
”

“Nooo.”

Glory laughed.
Her eyes fell on a bowl of scalloped potatoes
.
“Looks like we’re going to feast afterall.”

They sat at the table, just the two of them, g
obbling buttery drumsticks, savo
ring sweet apple filling, comforted
by
s
m
ooth
silky
potatoes
.
A full stomach
calmed
nerves better than anything
else could
.
She stretched and groaned.
“I
hurt all over, George.”

“Boo boo?
”
George said pointing to her face.

Glory felt her forehead, realizing she must be scratched and filthy.

“I’m okay
,” she said, knowing it wasn’t true. Nothing was okay, but she didn’t know why
.
Quit being so dramatic, she chastised herself.
Just play along like everything is normal until something abnormal happens
.

The phone buzzed.

“Hello,” Glory answered.

“
Is this Glory?
”

“Last time I checked.”

She recognized Clash’s voice on the
other
end.

“Don’t be a
butt
. Just making sure you made it home.”

“
I did.”

“We cool?
”

“Yep.”

“Good,” Clash said. “A new episode of Galactic Heroes is on
. G
otta go
.
See ya.”

“Bye.”

Glory hung up thinking
Clash must have been really worried about
her
to call during Galactic Heroes.
At least one person still cared. Mom
used to care enough for everybody
.
After her death
,
none of the Alleys took up the slack, especially where George was concerned. The poor kid was practically an orphan.

“
Hey, George, tomorrow
I’m going on
my annual
trip to wish
Mom
a happy birthday
.
Wanna come along?
”

He
nodded enthusiastically,
just
as
s
he expected
.

Late the
next morning
,
Glory
bundled
her
little brother i
n an old plaid jacket
. She pulled a
white
and red
knit stocking cap
over his ears.
Polka dot m
ittens covered his dimpled baby hands
, but the
sun
had
managed
push out
one
more
warm day before the winter winds
blew in from the west, so she
let
him take them off.