Abandon (25 page)

“Mom,” I said, lowering my spoon. “I’m actually eating right now.”

“Don’t worry,” she said with a grin. “I knew you’d feel that way about it. That’s why I told him I was too busy at the moment to date. But it was still very nice. He asked me to the boat show next weekend. You have to admit, Tim is very cute.”

“Still eating,” I said. “And I don’t have to admit anything, except that between you and Dad, I don’t know which one of you is going to kill me sooner. Permanently. I mean it.”

I wanted to inform her that I had just found out her birthplace was parked over an Underworld — which shouldn’t really have come as much of a surprise to her, all things considered.

But I didn’t want to destroy her good mood, especially since she’d made dinner and been so nice about the wood, even if that wasn’t exactly what I wanted.

Mom laughed and drank some of her wine. “So I take it we’re the lucky home that’s been selected for the building of the
senior class coffin,” she said, tactfully changing the subject. “How did you manage that on your first day? You’re not even on a sports team.”

“We live in a gated community,” I said, sullenly stabbing a piece of broccoli I could see she’d hidden in the pasta so I’d get some vegetables. “No one can drive by and see what we’re doing unless they live here.”

“Oh,” Mom said knowingly. “They’ve wised up. They used to just build them in someone’s mausoleum in the cemetery for that reason.”

“Yeah,” I said, giving a little shiver. “Well, they can’t use the cemetery anymore because the police are onto them about that.”

Which would explain why, when I’d accepted Mr. Smith’s offer of a ride home — the rain had let up by then, but not enough to make riding through it more tempting than a seat in his warm, dry minivan — we’d run into Jade, my counselor from New Pathways, cruising around the cemetery in bicycle shorts and a plastic rain poncho with IHPD written on it.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing out here?” Mr. Smith had put down his window to ask as she’d ridden up. “Don’t tell me they didn’t cancel patrol on a night like this. Haven’t they heard there’s a hurricane coming?”

Jade put down her hood and grinned at us. “It’s just a watch, not a warning,” she said, referring to the hurricane. Then she pointed the beam from her bike light into the car. “Is that you, Pierce? What are you doing in there with Mr. Smith?”

“Um,” I said, a little embarrassed that I’d chosen the minivan over my bike when Jade evidently didn’t mind the rain at all. I
was the one wearing a necklace that apparently warded off demons, and I was scared of some drizzle. Also, I had no idea how to answer her question about what I was doing in Richard Smith’s minivan.

He answered for me.

“I saw her out riding in that last downpour,” he said. “And had mercy on her. I’m taking her home. Are you sure I can’t do the same for you? Her bicycle is still locked up over by the gate, so there’s plenty of room to put yours in the back here, if you choose to. Which I highly recommend.”

“Naw,” Jade said, putting her hood back up as another car drove by, splashing water everywhere, its high beams flashing against the sides of the nearby crypts as they loomed behind the high, spiked black metal fence. “Are you kidding me? I’m having the time of my life out here patrolling with the IHPD. They gave me a walkie-talkie and everything.” She pulled up the rain poncho to reveal the two-way radio on her hip. “We’re gonna make sure no more baddies mess with your gate, Mr. S. And if they do, I’m going to pepper-spray them, don’t you worry.”

I leaned forward in my seat. This was ridiculous. Jade was riding her bike around the graveyard, at night, in a rainstorm, because of something
John
had done? She was going to get all wet for nothing.

Not to mention, John’s words from the night before were still ringing in my ears:

It’s not safe for you here.

“I really don’t think —” I started to say, but Mr. Smith interrupted.

“That’s fine, Jade,” he said. “It’s you and Officers Rodriguez and Poling tonight?”

“Till one in the morning,” she said cheerfully. “They’re going around in the squad car.” She made a face at me. “Like little babies, all snug and warm.”

I didn’t laugh. “Really,” I said again. “I think you should —”

“I don’t think you’re going to see any action tonight because of the rain,” the cemetery sexton interrupted me again. “But the officers have the keys to get into my office if you need anything, and of course the chief of police has my home number. Have fun. And be safe.”

She grinned and saluted, then rode off. I looked behind us as Mr. Smith hit the power window to close it.

“Why didn’t you
make
her get in the car?” I demanded. “That’s completely nuts, riding around on a bike in this weather —”

“Probably the safest night shift she could pull,” he said, “with this silly program your school has. Pairing teachers up with the police. Makes no sense to me. Nothing they teach you kids in school today makes sense to me.”

“She’s not a teacher,” I said, still looking back at her bike lights as she pedaled away. “She’s a counselor. And she’s really nice. This is so stupid.”

“It doesn’t matter. No one’s going to be out on a night like this, anyway. And what did you mean,
make
her get in the car? You’re a strange girl. How, precisely, do you
make
a woman like that do anything? You saw her; she’s having fun. She’ll be perfectly safe, just like you were, the many times
you
rode your bike
through my cemetery. Nothing bad will happen to her. John will see to that.”

“John told me the cemetery wasn’t safe,” I explained to him. “He told me that last night. He told me never to come back. He said if I did, I’d end up dead, forever this time. That’s when he kicked the gate.”

Mr. Smith chuckled. “That sounds like John. Was that before or after he threw the necklace?”

“It’s not funny,” I said with a scowl. “Why would he say it wasn’t safe if he didn’t mean it?”

“He meant it wasn’t safe for you,” the cemetery sexton said. “Because you were clearly aggravating him so much, he felt like killing you. But he didn’t mean it literally. He was exaggerating to make a point. John’s never killed a woman yet — that I know of — and if he were to start now, I assume he’d kill you, not your guidance counselor. Good Lord, do they teach you
nothing
in school these days? Have you ever heard of hyperbole? I highly suggest you look up the word, Miss Oliviera, if you intend to pursue a relationship with a death deity.”

I’d given up after that. Especially later, after having cleared the dishes and made a halfhearted attempt at my homework — I had to at least
look
as if I were trying — I turned on the eleven o’clock forecast and saw that Isla Huesos was now dead center inside the three-day cone of uncertainty. Forecasters were still calling it a watch, so no evacuations were being announced, but officials were encouraging those living in “low-lying or flood-prone areas” to take necessary precautions. And since the bridges that attached
Isla Huesos to the mainland would close once winds reached seventy miles per hour, those who wished to relocate needed to do it soon, especially because they were opening up only one shelter, way up in Key Largo.

“Mom,” I said nervously. “Are you seeing this? Should we evacuate or something?”

Mom was on her laptop.

“Oh, honey,” she said distractedly. “It’s only a watch. And it’s going to hit Cuba first. These storms always die down over Cuba. And they haven’t even canceled school tomorrow. If they haven’t canceled school, it’s nothing. Trust me on this. So I hope you really did do your homework” — she grinned at me — “because there’s no chance you’re getting out of it.”

I turned off the TV, feeling dejected. Not that I’d been
hoping
for a hurricane to come and hit my school. Only a little kid would want something like that.

But when I’d flicked on the lights in the garage while getting my book bag earlier and seen the four-by-eights Seth had left there, leaning up against all the outdoor furniture Uncle Chris had left stacked so neatly, I wondered how was I going to break the news to Alex that I was on the Coffin Night committee with these people he hated so much.

And it had all kind of hit me. It was too much. All of it. I was going to have these people in my house, building a coffin that had something to do with a guy who was the ruler of this Underworld that none of them knew existed, right underneath the island on which they’d lived their whole lives.…

If a hurricane did come and wipe all of us out, at least I wouldn’t have to deal.

But that was no way, I knew, to cope with my problems. Nor was calling my dad and telling him I’d decided to take him up on his offer of boarding school.

Because I couldn’t help thinking Switzerland was sounding pretty tempting all of a sudden. It would break my mom’s heart, but she’d get over it if I convinced her it was so I’d have a better chance of getting into a decent college.

Surely, this would be better than telling her the truth…that I needed to get away from this crazy place she’d brought me to, which also happened to be on top of the exact place I’d spent every day since I’d died trying to forget.

I even went so far as to dial Dad’s number as I was sitting there in the garage — after carefully closing the door so Mom wouldn’t overhear.

“What?” Dad yelled, picking up on the first ring, as he always did when I called.

I could tell he was at a business dinner. I could hear the buzz of conversation and clink of cutlery in the background. Dad never ate at home. Why should he, when there was always some client willing to take him out to eat at one of Manhattan’s finest restaurants?

“Dad,” I said. “Is this a bad time?”

“Never,” he said. “I’m at that place we went, remember, with that glass wall of wine bottles that you said should spin around so you could just point to make your selection?” Suddenly, my dad
was in a rage. “But they did not implement your suggestion! The racks still don’t spin!”

“They’re stupid,” I said. “Dad, I need your help. I have to get out of here.”

He sounded delighted, as I’d known he would be. I heard a snapping sound.

“Plane,” he said to someone. “Isla Huesos. Tomorrow.”

“It’s just,” I said, “there are some things going on. Mom’s great, you know —”

“Is she going out with anyone?” Dad asked, too casually.

“Uh,” I said. “What? No. Of course not. But —”

“What?” Dad was suddenly yelling. “No. I said the 2005 Chateau La Mission Haut Brion. Not the 2008. If I wanted the 2008, I’d have asked for the 2008. Are you people trying to kill me?”

I looked down at the diamond on the end of my gold chain. It was back to its usual color, pale gray on the edges and midnight blue inside.

What was I doing?

I couldn’t leave, I realized. Not
now.
Leaving now would be no better than crawling back inside my glass coffin.

“Dad,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Never mind. I —”

Dad got back on the phone with me. “Now they’re telling me there’s some kind of hurricane coming your way. Did you know this? I
told
your mother not to go back to that godforsaken hellhole.”

Hellhole. Dad, you have no idea.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I said. “I changed my mind. I want to stay.”

“Pierce,” Dad said. “It’s fine. I can get the plane there. Just the commercial airport is closed. All the pilot has to do is land at
the naval base, and then I can get this friend of mine to pick you and your mom up.”

“Look, Dad,” I said. “It’s fine. I just had a weak moment. I have to go. Mom’s calling me. Forget we had this conversation. I’ll talk to you at our usual time on Sunday.” I hung up.

Mom went to bed right after the news, which she always does. I took a shower and washed my hair, then threw on an ancient cami and pair of sleep shorts. By then the feeder band, or whatever it was, had died. The rain had stopped. Peeking out through the curtains of my bedroom window, I could see that the sky was completely clear and the stars were out. The lights Mom’s environmentally conscious landscaper had strategically planted at the base of a few of the royal palms in our backyard had come on and shined up against the trunks, even though my mom had fretted about “light pollution” and worried the lights would cause confusion to migratory birds.

The landscaper had looked at her and said, “Ma’am, I think the birds will be fine. And these low-watt bulbs will make it so you can see if there are any prowlers in the backyard without having to use high-energy security lights.”

I’d fixated on the word
prowlers.

“We’ll take them,” I’d said firmly.

Peering out into the yard, I saw that Mom had left the pool lights on. Now steam came off the turquoise-blue surface in the humidity left after the storm.

There was something small and black floating in the middle of the pool. A body. Not just floating. Struggling. Whatever it was — and it was tiny — it had legs.

And it was pumping them in a frantic effort to get to the stairs and save itself before it drowned.

But it couldn’t save itself. Because even if it reached the stairs, it wouldn’t be able to pull itself up onto the first step. It was too small. Anyone could see that.

I let the curtain fall back.

Why me? That was all I had to say. Just…
Why. Me.

Sighing, I left my room, moving through the darkness of the second-floor hallway. I could hear Mom’s gentle breathing through the open door to her room. She could fall asleep faster, and stay sleeping harder, than any human being I’d ever known.

When I reached the French doors to the backyard, I entered the code into the alarm, then opened them.

Stepping outside was like stepping into soup. That’s how humid it was.

Frogs were croaking everywhere. A cicada screamed. Somewhere behind the twelve-foot Spanish wall crawling with bougainvillea, a cat — or possibly a tree rat — made rustling noises. I ignored them all, walking barefoot down the stone path towards the pool, intent on my mission. The brick path was still wet from the storm, and covered in snails. There was enough glow from the lights at the base of the royal palms for me to be able to see the snails and avoid stepping on them.