Livvie Owen Lived Here (15 page)

The air outside was crisp and colder than it should be, two days before November. Lanie's hand in mine was warm and I remembered her being little, remembered the last time I felt bigger than her. Some years had passed since then.

I started to pull her toward the Sun House, but she pulled back just as insistently.

“Not a chance,” she said with a shiver. “Uh-uh.”

So we headed right instead. Little rocks rolled under my shoes and made it difficult to walk as fast as I suddenly felt I needed to. One street over from Pendleton was Probart. I tugged my sister in that direction, terribly curious about something Mrs. Rhodes said the day before.

The angle of the back porch meant it had to be
the house on the left. The house's left, that is, not mine. It didn't take long to find them, either. It's not every day you see a sixty-five-year-old substitute teacher playing Ultimate Frisbee with her brother in the yard.

“Go long!” she shouted, and Otis Andrews did, sprinting the length of the yard to grab the Frisbee out of the air.

“Yes!” Mrs. Rhodes squealed, jumping and clapping for her brother. I felt an odd sort of giggle bubbling up in my throat. I was pretty sure there was a rule about teachers and Frisbee and I was pretty sure she was breaking it, but I didn't have the words for it just yet.

“I've still got it, sis!” Otis Andrews announced in a proud sort of voice.

“That you do!” She was laughing. “Me, on the other hand . . .”

“Aah, come on, sis, you gotta try it!”

“All right, all right!” She winced and braced herself as he threw the Frisbee back. I noticed that it moved in a gentle pattern, exactly into her hands. I thought maybe that had more to do with Otis Andrews than with Mrs. Rhodes.

“Is her name ‘Sis'?” I whispered to Lanie.

“I don't think so,” she whispered back. “I think that's her brother. Do you know these people?”

“Oh. That's Mrs. Rhodes, my new substitute teacher, and her brother, Otis Andrews.”

“Oh, well, see, he's calling her ‘sis' like ‘sister.' ”

“Huh.” That made sense, I guess. Crouching behind the porch railing, we watched them playing in their yard like two little kids.

“Do you think they know we're watching?” Lanie asked after a minute, and Mrs. Rhodes called from the yard, “Of course we do! We're old, not blind!”

Despite her words, I thought I saw Otis Andrews jump a little, and I suspected he hadn't been aware of us till then. The Frisbee stopped almost in midair, the way it sank into his grip, like he had called it.

“Well, hello there,” he said, walking toward us.

“Hello.” I felt my eyes get funny and slip away from him, not sure where to look.

“And how are you this fine afternoon?”

Since it was freezing cold, without even the decency to snow, I wasn't sure what he meant by “fine,” but perhaps it was just something to say, like the chipped paint on the porch railing was just something for me to look at.

“Doing well, thank you,” I said automatically, Natasha's manners drilled into me for years became habit. “And yourself?”

“Why, I'm splendid.” From some people, it might
have sounded trite, just something to say, but the way he said it, I believed him.

“You're very good at Frisbee,” Lanie said politely, while I hummed softly, just under my breath, hoping Otis Andrews wouldn't notice.

“Are you nervous, dear?” Mrs. Rhodes asked, noticing my humming just like she noticed everything. I kept humming without answering, because I didn't want to admit it and I also didn't want to lie.

“We were looking at a house,” Lanie said. “She didn't like it, though.”

“Oh, are you moving?”

“We got evicted.” Lanie's head bobbed up and down. I was pretty sure you weren't supposed to tell people you got evicted, because usually they got embarrassed and stammered a lot and looked away. But Mrs. Rhodes just smiled.

“We've had those months, haven't we, Otis?”

Otis Andrews nodded politely. “And how,” he agreed, although I wasn't quite sure what that meant.

“Would you like to play Frisbee?” Otis Andrews asked. “It's an original Wham-O forty mold, 1978.”

“I'm not very good at Frisbee,” I said tentatively, and hummed.

“We should be getting back,” Lanie said quickly. “We were just looking for For Rent signs and we wandered a little far.”

“House you were looking at wasn't up to par, then?”

“It was awesome,” Lanie said at the exact same time as I said, “It was terrible.”

“Houses are like that,” Mrs. Rhodes said, not at all confused by our split reaction. “Picky about who they like. The trick is finding a house that likes the whole family. Right, Otis Andrews?”

“Quite right, sis.”

“Well, you two young ladies have a fabulous day,” Mrs. Rhodes said, and she waved us on our way, although I suspected she would stand at the corner and watch till we made it back safely.

We hadn't gone even a block when Lanie spotted Karen walking quickly down the sidewalk.

“Girls!” she hollered when she saw us. “Where have you been?”

“Looking for For Rent signs,” Lanie said with a blush. “We didn't mean to go so far.” She cast me an accusing glance.

“We were
at
a For Rent sign!” Karen said in exasperation.

“I don't like that one,” I said faintly. “And I remembered that my teacher lived on Probart Street and I wanted to see.”

“Your—the new sub?”

“Mrs. Rhodes and her brother.”

Mom put her head in her hands for a moment. “Oh, Livvie, Lanie. You girls just can't go bothering a teacher at home!” She began leading us back the way we'd come, toward Mrs. Rhodes's house.

“They were outside, Mom, it's okay,” Lanie said. “They were playing Frisbee.”

Mom seemed to take this account with a grain of salt, a phrase Tasha used to mean
I doubt it
. “Whatever they were doing,” she said sternly, “you can't just go barging into their personal lives like that. And, Livvie, how many times lately have you been told not to leave our sight without asking?”

“But I took Lanie.” I glanced at Lanie and back at my mother, confused. “I didn't go alone.”

“Lanie is not an adult. She's an eleven-year-old child. She's not allowed to wander off, either, Livvie, so you're definitely not allowed to take her with you! We talked about this just this morning and you made a promise! Livvie, you can't go breaking promises like this! How can I trust you?”

“Livvie, you broke another rule!” I hollered, and Lanie's face got red.

“Hush, they'll hear you.”

“Who'll hear you?” I asked, although my wording didn't sound quite right.

“Mrs. Rhodes and Otis Andrews.” Indeed, we were nearing their house.

They had taken a break from Frisbee to flop onto the lawn furniture, looking relaxed, although there wasn't a speck of sun in the sky.

“Why, hello again,” Mrs. Rhodes said pleasantly as she saw us approaching. Standing, she extended her hand to my mother. “Vesta Rhodes. Olivia's new substitute, although I imagine she's told you that.”

Mom smiled weakly. “I'm Karen Owen,” she said. “I'm so sorry if they bothered you.”

“They were absolutely no bother,” Mrs. Rhodes said briskly. “You have lovely children. Why don't you come over tomorrow and not be a bother again? We have brunch on Sundays at ten-thirty.”

Karen looked a little surprised, but Mrs. Rhodes's gaze was kind.

“Well . . . that would be lovely,” Karen said uncertainly.

Otis Andrews stood suddenly, refusing to make eye contact with my mother. He gave me a crooked smile, so like his sister's. Nodding at me, he said, “I like this one, she's a funny one, this one.”

Mom smiled at him, a look of realization dawning as Otis rocked from foot to foot. “That she is,” she agreed.

Walking back to the rental house, I waited for my mother to fuss at me some more, but instead she only wrapped an arm around my shoulder and
squeezed. She had to reach up to do it. I was taller than her, which I thought was an awfully strange thing, since she was a grown-up and I felt very far from it.

We made it back to the house just as Simon locked up. I could tell at a glance that Karen hadn't mentioned to him we were missing; he looked more relaxed and happy than I had seen him in a while. Behind him, Natasha, too, looked happy. Happy enough I knew Simon would be calling the landlords when we got home, and Karen would pick up more boxes at work tonight. I tensed my shoulders.

“Is the neighborhood to your liking?” Simon asked when he saw us walking close.

“Can we walk this way and check?” I asked a little desperately, pointing toward the factory. Lanie elbowed me and I ducked away from her. I was struck with the idea that if I could get them all down to the Sun House, if I could remind them how happy we were there—maybe when they
saw
the For Rent sign—

But Simon was shaking his head. “Honey, your mom and I have to go to work this evening. Can it wait for another day?”

“I don't want to wait for another day, I want to show you.”

“Livvie,” Karen said quickly, “if we live on this
street, you'll be able to walk down to the factory every day. In the daylight.
With
permission.”

“That's not where I want to walk to!” I hollered over my shoulder, already running. “Come on! It'll just take a second!”

“Dammit, Livvie!” Simon's voice followed me down the block and I sprinted faster. I heard feet behind me. Didn't know whose till Natasha caught me.

“Livvie, stop!” She took my arm, spun me mid-step. “Stop running after something that isn't there! Just stop!”

“It
is
there!” I grabbed her sleeve and pulled her with me. “Why won't anyone look?” We were nearly there. I could see the factory gate in the distance, and, closer, the looming white walls that once shone bright yellow. “Just look!”

Natasha yanked her sleeve loose. Her cheeks were pink. “Liv, it's not going to happen!”

“But it's for rent, Tash! There's a sign! Come and see!” I ran without her, gravel scattering under my shoes. Behind me I could hear Simon's voice raised, could hear Natasha shouting. All that frustration. All that sadness behind me. If I could just get them to come with me, back to the Sun House, where they were so happy—if I could just get them to look—

My feet hit the steps at the same time Simon caught my sleeve.

“Olivia Owen!”

I tripped on the top step and sprawled out sideways across the rotting porch. Beneath me I could feel wet wood, soggy in a way that made my skin crawl. I smelled mud and something heavy and solid. Simon sat beside me so quickly I thought he must have fallen, too. He swore again under his breath.

“Liv—are you all right?” His face was red with worry and anger.

I turned over, rubbing skinned elbows, and let him help me sit up on the rotting wood. He was angry and upset and I knew I had messed up again. Between us lay the sign, facedown. Wordlessly, breathing hard, I plucked the wet cardboard up off the porch and pressed it into his hands. The corner tore a little in my grip, but the words were there. They were shaped funny, now that I was looking close.

“This,” I finally said. “I wanted to show you.”

He looked at it and the crinkles on his forehead got deeper. He was breathing hard from the chase and for a moment he didn't say anything. Despite the cold, he had sweat running rivers down his face. He turned away from me with a grimace. His face stayed red.

Behind us I heard the porch steps creak and knew Natasha had joined us. Lanie and Karen lingered at the street.

“Why?” Simon asked. “What's so important about
this sign that made you want to run away again like that?”

“Daddy, she can't read it,” Natasha said, sinking down to sit beside us. “She doesn't know.”

I looked from my sister, who had tears starting in her eyes, to my father, who had a hand on his forehead, frowning fiercely. Moving slowly to stand, I backed away from them, but I tripped on the rotting floorboards and had to catch myself on the doorknob.

The door swung open, but the smell that wafted out was nothing at all like fried potatoes. I saw lumber on the floor. Pipes sticking out of the wall. The furnace was gone, which meant my name was gone from the walls. There was a faint smell like heat, like a campfire after a rain. I tugged the door till it shut. Drew a breath. And turned.

“It doesn't say For Rent, does it?”

When Simon didn't answer, I looked at Natasha.

“It says Condemned,” she said tiredly. “It means they're going to tear it down. Livvie, that's what I told you. We're never going to live here again.”

Tash was out with me and we were hand in hand, the way my mom preferred us to be when we were walking by the road, never mind the fact that I was fourteen and I knew about cars.

It was August, only two months before October but so
different,
and the sky was hot and heavy with storm. My mind tricked my feet into thinking they were happy and we walked the streets of Nabor with a bounce in our steps, absolutely certain we would find him today.

Cats didn't disappear, and they certainly didn't do it in a town the size of Nabor, where everybody knew whose cat was whose. Orange Cat would be perfectly safe here and I knew it. Now all I had to do was coax his stubborn self out into the open so I could catch him.

There was the finest mist of warm, soft rain starting to work its way down from the clouds. Tash looked up into it and laughed, her hair blowing back as the storm blew closer.

“I love storms,” she laughed out loud into the sky. “Bring it on! I've been waiting for it!”