Secrets of Valhalla (6 page)

B
uzz opened his eyes and stretched his arms above his head, his fingers pushing against the headboard. He rolled over to check his phone and frowned as he was greeted by a dead screen and a bubble of water that blobbed behind the plastic. He and Sam had gone and gotten the phone fixed yesterday, and it had worked when they'd left the shop. So why isn't it working now?

He sat up in bed and swung his legs out from under the duvet, his feet hitting the wooden floorboards, making them creak. For the first time in a very long time he felt rested. The familiar tired feeling that filled his eyes with grit and made his stomach feel hollow was gone, and he realized that it was because he had slept—properly slept.
Mum is coming home.
Nothing could ruin that feeling. Not even a broken phone or
Theo Eddows and his stupid threat to tell everyone about the dragon delusions.

He sniffed the air. He could smell pancakes.

Strange.

Tia may have convinced the Prof to make them pancakes on Saturdays, but there was no way he'd do it on a Sunday as well—he'd be far too busy with his research.

So if it wasn't the Prof cooking, who was it?

Mum.

The word exploded in his head like a firework and rocketed him out of bed.

Yanking open his bedroom door, he charged down the stairs, all but tumbling down the last few steps.

Tia looked up from the breakfast bar where she was tucking into a short stack of pancakes.

“Whoa! Where's the fire, Buzz?” she asked, a little crease forming between her eyebrows.

“Mum!” Buzz exclaimed. “Where is she?” His gaze eagerly swept over the kitchen, and he expected to see his mum's willowy frame at any point, her nutmeg skin a little pink from the heat of the kitchen. But instead he saw only his father. The Prof stood at the stove, very still, a jug of batter in his hand. The tiny blue flowers on the porcelain looked smudged, and the jug somehow looked wrong and fragile in his large hand.

“Buzz, your mother is in the Amazon rain forest.” The Prof gently set the jug down and turned off the gas under the frying pan. He turned to face him. “It's where she's been for the
last six months.” He said the words carefully, as if they were sticks of dynamite that might go off.

Rapid heat flooded his cheeks. “I know where she's been, but I smelled the pancakes—I just thought that she must have come home earlier than expected.”

His father frowned deeply. It was the same expression he'd worn on Friday evening when Buzz had told him about seeing Eleanor Bright and the dragon in Tangley Woods.

“Earlier than expected?” he repeated.

“Yeah, her plane's supposed to leave today, right? I just thought she might have gotten an earlier one.”

His father took a breath. “Why don't you sit down, Buzz? I'll bring you over some pancakes and get you some water.”

“Thanks.” Buzz slipped onto his stool, watching his father's movements as he went over to the fridge. They seemed tense and wooden. He felt the pinprick of Tia's gaze on him and he turned to face her.

“What's up with you, Buzz?” his sister asked.

“Good morning to you as well.”

“That's not an answer.” Tia looked upset.

Buzz stared at his sister, noticing that she was wearing her sequin-encrusted
A-Team
T-shirt again.
Since when does Tia ever wear an outfit two days in a row?

“I'm fine, Tia. I was just a bit surprised that Dad was making pancakes for the second day on the trot.” He shrugged. “I thought Mum had gotten home early, that's all.”

Tia played with the silverware next to her plate. Her
cheeks had lost color. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Saying what?” Buzz tried to push down his rising irritation. Why were Tia and Dad acting so strangely?

Maybe crazy is catching,
a bitter inner voice answered.

“About Mum getting home early,” Tia snapped. “At best it's cruel and at worst you're deluded. Buzz, we haven't heard anything from her in months.” She shook her head. “And as much as it might pain you to admit it—Dad has been making us pancakes every Saturday since Mum left because he is doing the best he can. You're trying to wind him up and I don't think it's fair.”

Buzz's skin began to prickle into goose bumps. “Tia, Mum called us yesterday. We were sitting right here having breakfast. Dad was making pancakes.”

Tia threw her hands up in exasperation. “Yesterday, I had a piece of toast and met Marissa at seven forty-five on the corner. You were late for school—goodness knows why but I bet it had something to do with my hair dye—I don't even want to know.” She pointed a finger at him. “Buzz, whatever joke you're trying out here—quit it, okay? It's mean.”

“It's not a joke,” Buzz shot back. “Mum called. She called the house. You spoke to her.”

That worried, creased line was back between Tia's eyes, and she fixed her gaze at his temple. “How'd you hurt your head?”

“I told you already, after school I was in Tangley—”

With a clatter, Buzz's father placed a plate of pancakes
on the counter. “Your brother got lost in Tangley Woods yesterday and tripped and hit his head.” He nodded at Buzz. “Eat up while they're still hot,” he insisted. But the Prof's eyes said something else.
Do not tell Tia about yesterday.

A rush of déjà vu blasted through Buzz, so strong that it slammed the breath out of him. This conversation had happened yesterday—exactly like this.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Tia asked her brother. “You don't look so good.”

Buzz heard the question and tried to grab hold of it but it slipped further away as he spotted a newspaper folded on the breakfast bar. Eleanor Bright's eyes looked out at him from the inky page, and above her picture was a familiar headline:

“Weatherwoman Mystery Deepens. Fog Over Disappearance Refuses to Lift.”

The date at the top of the page said Saturday, September 14, but there was no chocolate sauce on the newspaper's front page—not a drop.

Dizzy, he took a deep breath, but it didn't work—the world still spun around him.

“I took him to the doctor yesterday,” he heard the Prof say. “She said that he just needed rest, but maybe we should go back to the hospital.”

“I'm fine,” Buzz said as the world swung back into focus. “Just remind me what day it is?”

“Saturday,” Tia and the Prof said at once. They were both looking at him in concern.

“Saturday,” Buzz echoed.
Saturday for the second day in a row,
he thought.
And I have now officially lost whatever marbles I had left.
He scrubbed at his face. Eleanor Bright, a dragon, and now a Saturday that seemed to be repeating itself. A burble of something that could be a laugh or a sob climbed up his throat,
and only the
shrill ring of the telephone disguised it.

“I'll get it.” Tia slipped down from her stool and headed to the phone, but Buzz was quicker.

If he was going to live this day twice, be it by dream or hallucination, then he was going to be the one to answer this phone call.
There have to be some perks to going mad.

He snatched the phone from its stand and hit the green button.

“Hello-the-Buzzard-residence,” he said in one breath.

“Buzz? Buzz? Is that really you?” a tinny voice on a crackly line said.

“Mum!”

Despite the fact that he had expected it to be her, had wanted it to be her, hearing Mum's voice made his hands tremble on the phone. “I thought I'd never hear your voice again.” His mouth was dry. “I've missed you so much Mum.”

Tia and the Prof were already at his side, their faces twin masks of astonishment.

At the other end of the line, Mum was silent, and Buzz wondered if her line had failed. But then he heard her swallow hard, as if her mouth was as dry as his, and he realized that she was nervous. “I've missed you, too, love. I'm so sorry to
have put you through this—will you forgive me?”

“It wasn't your fault. It was the electrical storm.”

His mum gasped. “Did I tell you that already? I could have sworn that—”

“When will you be home?” Buzz asked, cutting her off before she could ask any more difficult questions.

“I'll be getting on a plane first thing tomorrow. And when I'm home everything is going to go back to normal, I promise.”

Normal
, Buzz thought, and the warm glow of talking to his mother began to fade a little. He'd left normal behind the day he imagined he saw Eleanor Bright imprisoned by an enchanted rope in Tangley Woods.
And now I'm living Saturday on a loop.
Normal felt really far away. Buzz's hand tightened on the phone. Maybe he wasn't mad.
Maybe I'm still asleep, dreaming away in my bed upstairs.

“I can't wait,” Buzz whispered, and he hoped the desperation is his voice would get lost in the static on the line. He hoped the sooner Mum was back, the sooner his world would return to its axis.

“All right, love, pass me over to your father.”

Buzz handed the phone to the Prof, and he could see the flash of annoyance that crossed his sister's face as she realized the phone wasn't coming her way.

She got to speak to Mum yesterday,
Buzz reminded himself.
Not that she knows that, since apparently yesterday didn't happen for her.

“Natasha, are you hurt? Where have you been? We
thought . . . well, you can imagine what we thought.” The Prof held the phone tightly, and his knuckles stood out starkly against his pale, freckly skin.

Buzz could hear his mother's voice but not her words as the Prof listened intently.

“Natasha, the line is breaking up. Yes, of course, I'll tell her. I lo—” He broke off and looked at the phone in frustration. “She's gone.”

“But I didn't get to speak to her.” Tia's voice was a little hoarse.

“I'm sorry, but it sounds like she had to move heaven and earth to make the call and the line was temperamental, to say the least.”

Tia nodded, her throat working furiously.

The Prof was looking at Buzz in puzzlement. “I don't know how you knew, but you were right. Your mother really is coming home.”

B
uzz walked onto the field, waiting for the dream to fade or the hallucination to shatter, but Saturday kept on running just the same.

The Prof seemed to have forgotten all his threats to take Buzz back to the hospital, and Tia had been busy setting out a list of chores to get the house ready for Mum before heading to work. Buzz had slipped out while neither of them were paying attention, determined to go to his soccer game because it was still the only thing that made any sense.

Coach Saunders raised an eyebrow. “Good of you to turn up, Buzz. More than you managed yesterday.”

“Sorry about that, Coach,” Buzz said, almost on autopilot.

Coach Saunders winked. “Lucky for you, you're kind of integral to my game plan, so I'll let you off this time.” Coach
pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and waved it under Buzz's nose. “With this we can't fail.”

Buzz hesitated. Yesterday they had been well and truly crushed by Theo's team. But that was only because Theo had stolen the game plan—it hadn't been a fair match. If this really was a rerun of the previous day, then surely he could have a bit of fun and change the result.

“Coach, about your game plan . . .”

“Hmmm?” Coach smoothed it open and looked at it intently. “What about it?”

“Do you think I could have a look at it?” Buzz asked. “I mean, maybe I could add a few things.”

Coach chuckled. “Don't get me wrong, laddie. You're great at strategy.” He tapped his nose. “But this game plan is on a need-to-know basis. I like to call it my Super-Secret Grand Game Plan.” He chuckled again. “Catchy, right? Now, listen, you just need to focus on your part. You're going to be up front and out wide. Drop back when Albert accelerates and don't forget to pass.”

Buzz groaned inwardly as Coach continued to talk. He didn't know what to do. There was no proof that the game plan had been stolen, and if he accused Theo, Theo would just deny it and say that Buzz was delusional.

The thing was, with Mary's grandmother all too happy to discuss what Buzz thought he saw in Tangley Woods, people might be inclined to think Theo was right.

Buzz heard a dull, grating noise and realized that it
was him grinding his teeth. The grinding became fiercer as he spotted Theo crossing the field to where his team was warming up on the sidelines and showing off his new pair of sneakers. His team grinned and high-fived one another in greeting. They looked like a squad who knew they'd won the match already.

Buzz turned to Coach Saunders. “I hate to say it, Coach, but I'm pretty sure the Super-Secret Grand Game Plan is not that secret.”

Coach chuckled. “Nice try, but I'm not telling you the game plan.”

“That's okay. I'll just guess,” Buzz replied, and then he proceeded to recall every detail from the match yesterday. He outlined the tactics for each and every player on his team. He even remembered to include some of the motivational stuff Coach had thrown in at halftime. The line about them working together and being more than the sum of their parts had Coach Saunders's jaw hanging open.

Coach held up a hand and begged Buzz to stop. “Am I really that predictable?” he asked forlornly.

Buzz felt a twist of guilt for making Coach doubt himself like this.
But it's for the greater good,
he reassured himself. “Listen, Coach, two heads are often better than one.” He smiled encouragingly. “We'll use elements of your game plan, but we just need to disguise the intentions a bit.”

Coach Saunders' shoulders straightened, and he looked at his watch. “Right you are, Buzz. We've got exactly seven
minutes, so let's get cracking.” He took the game plan, scrunched it into a ball, and lobbed it into a nearby trash can.

Buzz grinned and in that moment felt a pair of eyes on him. He turned and saw Theo staring at them from across the field. He wasn't smiling anymore, and that made Buzz grin even more widely.

This do-it-all-over-again day—dream or not—was shaping up to be a lot of fun.

Buzz saw lights as an elbow crashed into his jaw, and he felt his legs being swept out from beneath him. Buzz hit the ground, hard, as a whistle blew.

It hurt, but there was nothing like leading the match by four goals to take the sting out of these things.

Theo stood over him, his cheeks flushed. “I know it was you, Freaky. You switched the plan.”

“You mean the plan you stole?” Buzz got to his feet. He wasn't as tall as Theo, but he tipped his chin and that helped a bit. “It was ours to change.”

Theo took a step forward, but another blow of the whistle stopped him, and Buzz could see that the referee was just a few paces away.

“I'm going to get you back for this,” Theo hissed. “I know things about you, Dragon Boy, and soon, so will everybody else.” He held his hands up and turned to face the referee, who had now barreled up to his side.

“Ref, it was an accident. I didn't mean it.”

“
You. Off. Now
.” The referee pointed Theo in the direction of the bench.

Theo stalked off, but not before hurling one last glare at Buzz.

Sam arrived at Buzz's side. “You okay?”

Buzz worked his jaw, wincing. “Right now and for today, I'm just fine.”

“That challenge was brutal.” Sam shook his head. “Why does Theo hate you so much?”

Buzz remembered what Mrs. Robertson had said about Theo's missing brother. And how difficult that was for him to deal with. He shrugged. “Whatever it is, he's never bothered to tell me.”

He took the ball that was handed to him by the referee and kicked the penalty. Buzz didn't even need to think about it. The ball found the sweet spot, right in the corner of the net.

The whistle blew for the end of the match, and Buzz felt the air rush past his ears as he was hoisted up on the shoulders of his teammates.

They'd won!

Buzz opened his eyes and stretched his arms above his head, his fingers grazing the wooden headboard. He sat up in bed and swung his legs out from under the duvet, his feet hitting the wooden floorboards and making them creak. He yawned widely and then winced as a sharp pain lanced his jaw.

He cradled the side of his face, remembering how Theo's
elbow had crashed into it at the game yesterday.

Yesterday. The same yesterday that should have been Sunday but had actually been another Saturday.
Buzz had managed finally to convince himself that this second Saturday had been some kind of dream. But if that was the case, why was his jaw hurting?

Buzz sniffed the air and felt his heart rate accelerate. He could smell pancakes.

Not again.

He pinched himself, twisting at his skin. If this Saturday loop really was some kind of hallucination, then it was time for him to wake up.

“Ow!” His voice was loud in the quiet room, and all the pinch caused was a red mark and a radiating pain.

Enough,
Buzz thought.
Nothing's been the same since that evening in the woods on Friday the thirteenth.
Answers, if there were any to be had, were going to be there. And Sunna had said the tree would help.

He got ready quickly, laced up his sneakers, and tucked his still-broken phone into his backpack before shooting down the stairs.

Tia, dressed in her
A-Team
T-shirt, looked up from the breakfast bar where she was tucking into a short stack of pancakes.
Again.

“Whoa! Where's the fire, Buzz?” she asked, a little crease forming between her eyebrows.

“There's something I've got to go and check.”

“But I've made you pancakes,” the Prof protested, holding up the jug of batter. Buzz noticed that it was now cracked, and the pattern of flowers was little more than blobs.

“Sorry, I've got to go. I promised Sam that we'd have a quick practice before the match.”

Prof frowned. “How's your head? I'm really not sure it's a sensible idea for you to go and play, and certainly not without eating something first.”

“I feel fine.” Buzz snatched a pancake off Tia's plate. “And look, now I've had something to eat.” He shoved the pancake into his mouth and gulped it down.

“Firstly, oi! And secondly, what happened to your head?” Tia asked.

“Prof will fill you in,” Buzz said over his shoulder as he headed for the front door. “See you later.”

Mist rolled over the ground as Buzz left the house and jogged down the path that wended deeper into the forest. The trees stood as silent sentries, witnesses to many things over the years, but most accomplished as keepers of secrets.

He pushed through the woods, the thin blanket of autumn leaves crunching underfoot, and headed for Mornings Lake. The tree had been near there.

Buzz walked along the burbling brook that led toward the lake. The sound of the stream soothed the headache he hadn't even realized he'd been battling, and he felt at peace.

I should have come to the woods sooner,
he thought.

It felt so right in this place. His head felt clear, and here, he knew for sure that he had not imagined Eleanor or the dragon.

And he knew as well that he was not imagining that Saturday was repeating itself on a loop. Something very wrong had happened here on Friday the thirteenth, and the world was not recovering from it.

He heard the crunch of footsteps behind him, and he whipped around.

“You,”
he said.