Secrets: The Hero Chronicles (Volume 1) (4 page)

“Well,” said Cora, “I wanted to see how we would do in a bigger town. Plus, you need to be around more people.”

This went against everything she had taught me for the last five years. We were supposed to live in a small town, not get close to anyone, and blend in. Cora said that small-town folk know how to keep to themselves.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my aunt?” I said, feeling panicked by the sudden change.

She laughed, never looking away from the road. “Honey, I am the same loving, beautiful, intelligent Aunt Cora you’ve always known. You are getting older, and you know how to keep our secrets, so it is time for more responsibility.”

“Well, how do you know I’m ready? I could have messed up everything last night. I told Andy that we were moving, and then I went to a party and we—”

“Shh, Nicholas,” Cora hushed me. “Nothing happened, did it?”

“Something could’ve happened,” I said.

“I have to admit it was hard for me to just stand there and bite my tongue. I really wanted to grab your hand, slam the door, and remind you of everything I’ve taught you for the last five years.” A wave of relief washed over me knowing she wanted to stop me. She continued without seeing the smile on my face. “But, I smiled and let you handle the situation, and see, it worked out just fine. Maybe not how I would have done it,” she added, “but it still worked out. Some habits are going to be hard to break.” Cora grabbed my hand and squeezed. That was her way of telling me that she loved me and everything was all right.

“Cora, what’s the name of the city we are moving to?” I asked.

“Winsor, Illinois, home of the Winsor Cougars.”

I recognized the name of the town because my dad used to take us camping there. “Do you think it’s okay to move so close to the place that we are hiding from, our home?”

“It’s a hundred miles away. We will be just fine.”

We were close to the halfway mark of our trip when a rest stop appeared up ahead. We pulled off to eat and to stretch our legs. The sky was bright blue with no clouds to be seen. It looked like a Florida sky. A light breeze helped take the edge off the heat of the early morning sun. Cora grabbed the cooler from behind her seat and walked over to the covered picnic area.

The rest stop looked like every other rest stop I had ever seen. There were only a couple of cars and trucks parked at the far end of the lot. In front of the restrooms was an older couple reading what looked like a map. Cora had unpacked my roast beef, pickle, and mustard sandwich and her PB&J. Both sandwiches looked more like small mountains because of the homemade bread she used for them. We each got a bag of pretzels and a bottle of water.

This had been our moving meal for the last five years. I always thought it was funny because I ate the adult-type sandwich and she ate the kid sandwich. Even though it was on fancy bread, it was still PB&J. This lunch was the beginning of our New Year, our January First without the silly New Year’s resolutions. We were starting over, moving. No friends or family to call when we got there to say we arrived safely. This was the beginning, the starting over point.

“Cora, I am going to go wash up.”

Cora looked up from her sandwich, surveying the entire area and then centering her attention on the older couple.

“Cora, they are a harmless little old couple.”

She smiled. “Go ahead.”

I walked over to where the couple was standing. The woman looked very frail. She was holding a map. If a strong breeze came along, I was sure she would be carried away. The man was almost double her size and well built for someone of his age. She made eye contact with me and I smiled.

I walked by them and into the bathroom. The water felt so good over my hands. I splashed some on my face.

“Excuse me.”

I looked up with water still in my eyes. I grabbed a paper towel and wiped my eyes. The man from outside was right behind me. I spun around.

“Son, my wife wants to ask you a question before you leave. I told her that you would be out eventually, but she insisted on me coming in here and asking you to come out.” I was stunned. “Yeah, I know what you are thinking because I’m thinking the same thing, but you don’t stay married to the same woman for 48 years by doing what you want to do.” He turned and left the bathroom.

There was no other way to get out of the bathroom except the main entrance. I knew that if I ran into any problem with them, Cora would be within shouting distance. I took a deep breath and walked out to face them. “Excuse me, ma’am. Did you need something?”

“Oh, yes, young man. I asked Herbert to make sure I could ask you a question because I didn’t want to bother you unless it was okay.”

I looked at her husband, and he shrugged his shoulders and looked back at the map that she had been holding before. Just past him on the highway, a sea green pick-up truck had pulled over on the shoulder. I couldn’t see who was in it, but I felt uneasy, like I was being watched. The woman leaned in close to me so only I could hear her, bringing my attention back to her.

“You are him?” she whispered. My heart started to race. “I just wanted to say thank you.” She stepped back away from me and smiled. I didn’t know what to say, so I smiled and turned around, walking toward Cora who was now standing up, staring at me intently. I glanced over my shoulder to see if the truck was still there, but it was gone. When I reached her, my heart had almost stopped racing.

“What was that about?” She was still standing, staring at the couple that was now walking toward their car.

“Cora, it’s okay. They just wanted to know if I knew the best way to get to Cincinnati.” Cora’s body relaxed after a moment and she sat back down across from me.

I had eaten my entire sandwich and was starting on my pretzels when Cora said, “Hey, look at that!” She was pointing at a large billboard on the highway. There was a group of football players, all in green and gold uniforms and not wearing helmets. In the center of them was a tall, blond player holding a football in his hands, definitely the showcased player on the sign. Above them in large black words was “Cougar Football. Winning isn’t everything—it’s the ONLY thing.” Then it hit me. She was not showing me the billboard to get a laugh out of me because of the corny saying, but to show me that it was the school that I would be attending.

“Winsor Cougars. You’re sending me to a school where sports, not just any sport, but
football
is this important?”

“You know I would never send you to a sports factory. Winsor is top in the state for its academics. Just because their sports are good, doesn’t mean their academics are sub-par.”

She packed up the lunch leftovers and cleaned everything on and under the table because she was agitated. She would have weeded around the shelter if we weren’t on a schedule.

We continued on our way. Fifty miles from our lunch stop there was another Cougar football sign with another corny sports saying and the same blond male-model of a football player. After about the fifth sign I said, “You know, I can’t wait to see the billboards with the chess team on them or the quiz team. I can see their slogan: ‘Studying isn’t everything—it’s the ONLY thing.’” Cora shot me a dirty look, then giggled.

“Hey! We’re here!” Cora pointed to a large wooden sign that said “Welcome to Winsor” with a large rainbow painted on it. Then a metal sign over the road read “Winsor Exit Ahead One Mile on the Right.”

“Now remember, the first thing we need to do when we get there is—”

“I know. Unpack the boxes quickly into the house, so we can move the truck to the back of the house, so we don’t draw any attention.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, we need to unpack, go get some dinner, and then go to bed early to get some rest because we have to register you for school tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. sharp.”

“So let me guess. We are moving into a two-story house with elaborate landscaping, a wraparound porch, a long driveway, and a place to hide the truck in back. And, the color of the house is going to be a shade of yellow. I almost forgot, no neighbors close by and surrounded by woods.”

Cora didn’t answer immediately. She was concentrating on the road signs we were passing. “Well, you are all wrong. The house is beige . . . with some yellow accents,” she said with a smile. “Okay, we are getting close . . . 2022 . . . 2024, there it is, 2024 Trailwind Drive.”

We pulled into the long driveway. It looked like our last house and all the ones before it, which was scary. It looked like someone ripped our old house off its foundation and dropped it right here. Except for the color and some of the landscaping, it was identical. The sun was muted by the large trees that surrounded the house; very little of the sun’s light reached the ground. It was only around 5:30 p.m., but it looked like 8:00. Cora must have loved the fact that the trees blocked our view of our neighbors’ houses down the road.

“I can’t believe they still have the sign in the yard,” Cora said. I knew Cora would have told the realtor weeks ago to take any signs out of the yard. That was part of her plan to get us into our new house with no evidence of a house for sale or a “sold” sign in the yard.

“Nicholas, get out and grab that sign.” Whenever she said my name with every syllable heard clearly, she was really mad. I got out and pulled the “just sold” sign with a picture of what I guessed was the realtor out of the ground. I put it on the side of the house away from Cora. Cora was already out and undoing the restraints for our truck. She unlatched it and backed it off the tow ramp. I removed the tow bar and rolled up the back door to start unloading. Cora and I swiftly moved all of the labeled boxes inside to the appropriate room in the house. Then we moved in what little furniture we had. We could definitely show up any moving company. We had this moving thing down to a science.

“Nicholas, will you go around to the front door and put out our door mat?”

I carried the mat to the front of the house. Sitting on our doorstep was a basket of cookies and fruit with a big bow and a note that said “Welcome to the Winds.”

Cora had moved the truck to the back of the house. She was already inside when I walked through the back door carrying the big basket. Cora was busy unpacking the kitchen. I laid the basket right in the middle of the kitchen table. She caught sight of the basket out of the corner of her eye, and her face turned a deep shade of red. She continued unpacking, ignoring the large welcome basket on the table. She looked like a kid holding her breath until she got her way. It was funny.

I finished putting everything away that went in the family room and bathrooms. Cora and I had decided earlier to get dinner from Ethan’s when we were driving through town. It was one of those chain restaurants that exist in every major city around the U.S., serving the best of American cuisine. I knew that exactly a year from now Ethan’s would be my last meal here in this town. It was a very depressing thought to know that nothing here would last longer than a year. We got our food and then returned home. The large basket had disappeared off the kitchen table.

After we ate, Cora said, “Goodnight, Nicholas. I am heading up to bed; see you in the morning.” She walked upstairs and disappeared into her room. Cora had already pulled down the shades in the house. I locked all the doors, turned off the downstairs lights, and went to bed.

REGISTRATION

CHAPTER FOUR

T
he next morning was like all the ones before, but just in a new town. I woke up sick, grabbing my Tic Tacs, and Cora was brewing her favorite Starbucks blend.

“Nicholas, do you want any breakfast? I can whip up an omelet or even a Belgian waffle with some homemade blueberry syrup.”

I held up my hand to make her stop talking. “Cora, as long as we’ve been together, when have I ever wanted to eat breakfast?” I said, praying not to get any sicker.

“Well, I was hoping this new house and town would make you feel better, more relaxed.”

“Cora, when I feel well enough to eat in the morning, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay then, let’s go get you registered,” she said, filling her mug with the rest of the coffee from the pot.

Backing out of the driveway, I saw the welcome basket. It was sticking out of our trash bin. Cora must have thrown it out when I wasn’t looking. Typical.

Twenty minutes had passed and we were at the school. “Are you sure you got the right place?” I asked. The sign said “Winsor High School,” but it had to be a mistake.

“Nicholas, I know it’s bigger than the other schools, but—”

“Are you kidding? It’s the size of an amusement park,” I interrupted.

“It might be bigger than what you are used to, but it’s the same as the rest of the schools. This will help you when you go off to college.”

The school was not only big, but it was incredibly landscaped. It had a large fountain in the middle of the parking lot, topped by a bronze statue of a man with a football under his arm. The entire parking lot looked freshly blacktopped, and there were a dozen guys painting lines to make up the individual parking spots. When we drove by a crew painting the lines, I could see that each white divider line was not solid, but a group of words. Each line read, “The Home of the Mighty Winsor Cougars.” Along with the painting crews, there were dozens of two-man landscaping crews manicuring the grounds. Colorful shrubs and trees lined the parking lot and school. There were even a couple of people polishing the bronze statue. The only things missing from this school were roller coasters and waterslides.