Safe Landing (4 page)

I surveyed my new room through blurry eyes. Even with all of my stuff in it, it would take a long time to get used to. The old walls were constantly creaking, adding to the creepiness of the whole place. I needed to retire to the safety of my bed and down comforter before some other crappy thing happened. Bed was the best place to be on days that rated a solid two.

Somehow my favorite pillow had ended up on the floor underneath the old bookshelf. I got down on my hands and knees to reach it.

“Nice bum,” a voice said.

The back of my head smacked the case as I jolted upright. “Shit, shit, shit!” I rubbed the back of my head and looked around the room. “Tyler, Raymond, get out of my room!” They were hiding well. I pushed to my feet, limped to the closet, and threw open the door.  “Out!” My clothes hung there undisturbed and alone. I marched to the bed and leaned down to look under it. Empty. “I’m going to call Mom in here if you don’t show yourselves.”

Except for my rapid breaths, the room was silent. Maybe I’d imagined the words. No. It was definitely a guy’s voice, deeper than the boys and with an accent. Who uses the word
bum
? Definitely not the twins. Besides, they would not be commenting on their sister’s butt. I rubbed my head. So this is how it was going to be. I left behind my real life, and apparently, my sanity stayed behind with it.

Something caught my eye under the bookcase. It was an old, rusty key. Ignoring the growing bump on the back of my head, I reached down and picked it up. It was a small skeleton key, which appeared to match the lock on the drawer of the bookcase. I poked it through the tiny keyhole and jostled it around. The lock had obviously not been opened for a long time, and I didn’t have the patience or strength to snap it out of its rusted state. Tossing the key onto the shelf, I shambled to my bed and flopped onto it. At least the pain in my skull took my mind off the pain in my foot.

Chapter 4

The smell of burnt toast woke me from a bizarre series of dreams, including one where an old lady was cooking a bloody toe, and I kept moaning “who’s got my toe”.

“Breakfast is ready,” Mom called up the stairs. After an entire day of unpacking and a night of restless sleep in my new room, my head ached and my eyes were puffy. The whole look should make for a spectacular entrance at my new school. Mom seemed to think that the sooner we got into a normal routine, the sooner we would feel at home in Pelican’s Bay. She was obviously living in a fantasy world.  

As I pushed out of bed, something sharp fell on my good foot. I looked down and sat back hard on the bed. The skeleton key glinted up at me from the floor. I stared at it and quickly went through the evening’s events in my head. I’d reached under the desk, picked it up, and after attempting to open the drawer, I’d tossed the key onto the book case and climbed into bed.

Strange voices and inanimate objects moving across the bedroom, certainly nothing to panic about, I told myself. After all, I was living in Hell House. I picked up the key and placed it back on the bookcase, which grew increasingly unwelcome with each moment.

The light in the narrow hallway flickered dimly. Tyler and Raymond burst out of the bathroom.

“You better not have used all the hot water,” I yelled as they raced back to their room. I’d had my alarm set for six o’clock, but I’d hit the snooze button three times. I’d spent the first hour in bed freaking out about everything, the new school, Dad and his girlfriend, Jenny attending the prom with Blake, and the pathetic fact that I was going crazy.  No wonder my dreams were so creepy.

“Damn it!” I grabbed the sink to keep from slipping on my butt in the pool of water my brothers had left on the floor. The mirror was cloudy with steam. I smeared a hole in the condensation with the palm of my hand. “Lovely.”

“You’d better hurry, Brazil. You woke up late.” Mom’s voice seeped through the crack in the bathroom door.

“Thanks, Mom. I never actually learned to tell time.”

“Breakfast is on the table. Come get some before Darcy steals it.” Something we discovered after Darcy’s legs began to grow like stilts, really tall dogs can reach all areas of a table, counter and kitchen sink. No morsel of food was safe. Or cell phone for that matter.

My hair would have to go up in a pony-tail so I could take a fast shower. Mascara was a poor camouflage for my tired, red eyes, but I had no time for anything else. I threw on my favorite pair of jeans and a tight purple t-shirt and headed down to the kitchen. I still could not put all my weight on my bandaged foot, which gave me an extra air of grace as I walked downstairs.

“Does this high school have two stories?” I asked as I entered the kitchen. “Because if it does, I may break my neck before the day is out.”

“I think it’s only one story. It’s much smaller than your old school.” Mom turned from the stove carrying two plates of scrambled eggs. They looked rubbery and brown. “I’m afraid I haven’t quite mastered this stove yet.”

“I’ll pass.” I reached for the orange juice.

“Don’t go to school on an empty stomach, Brazil. You look cute, by the way, with only mascara. A face like yours—”

“—doesn’t need all that make-up,” I finished the regular chant for her. She was not pleased.

“I need you to rewrap my foot so it can fit in my shoe.” I dropped an unattractive piece of toast on my plate. “Pass the jelly, Ty.” The twins were ready to go. With freshly washed hair and glowing faces, they looked like they’d stepped out of a modeling ad.  They were headed, as usual, for instant popularity at their new school.

Mom turned off the stove and dropped the frying pan into the sink. “I’m going up to see what kind of disaster you three left in the bathroom. I’ll meet you in your room with the first aid kit.”

The toast kept sticking in my throat either because it was really dry toast or because I was nervous about today. It may have been some of both. I choked down three bites and left the table. Grabbing the ornate iron railing, I heaved myself back up the stairs. Mom was standing with a ball of gauze and tape in her hand, carefully surveying the old bookshelf. The drawer stood ajar.

“I guess you got the old lock to turn,” I said.

“Huh? The drawer was open when I came in.” Mom picked up the key to get a closer look. “This is really old.”

“It’s O.K., Mom. I really don’t care if you opened it.”

“I’m not one of your brothers, Brazil. If I’d opened the drawer, I would tell you.”

“Then that key has a mind of its own, and things are getting pretty freaky up here.” I plunked down on the bed without taking my eyes off the drawer. It was only open an inch or so, but last night, it would have taken a crowbar to open it.

“I know this is an old house, Zilly, but don’t be so absurd.” She knelt down, removed the old gauze, and rewrapped my foot.

“I’m not absurd,” I protested. “I’m nuts. See what you’ve done to me. A year ago I was perfectly sane, and now, I am one pancake short of a stack.”

She laughed and gathered up the first aid supplies. “You’re wrong.”

“Really, Mom, I’m losing my mind.”

“No. I meant the part about you being perfectly sane a year ago.” She kissed the top of my head and headed to the door. I hurled my pillow at her, but Darcy intercepted it like I was throwing a Frisbee.

Reaching the doorway, Mom stopped and turned. “Don’t be nervous about today, Zilly. You’ve never had trouble making friends—or boyfriends. It won’t be any different here. Drop it, Darcy.” The gangly dog reluctantly dropped my pillow and followed her out.

At least one of us had confidence that I could start up a social life again. Of course Mom hadn’t factored in the possibility that I really didn’t want one. The lovely pictures of Jenny with her arms around Blake drove me to the decision that friends were not worth the effort. Being a recluse might have some advantages, especially if I was losing my mind. Then I could just keep my wacko thoughts to myself.

I stood to leave and pushed the drawer shut. The faint scent of flowers wafted into the air surrounding the bookcase and a shiver crept up my spine. Not only was I seeing and hearing things, but I was smelling stuff too. As I grabbed my backpack and raced out of my possessed room, I wondered if insanity ran in my family.

****

My new high school was about the same size as the elementary school I’d attended in the city. There were lots of big trees surrounding the school, but otherwise it was the same as any school, a slapdash paint job over layers of old paint, long cement hallways dotted with flattened mounds of chewing gum, and endless rows of dented student lockers. There was a guy leaning against one of the trees playing harmonica, which was different, but otherwise the kids were all the same. Just different faces.

A girl smiled at me as she strolled by. She had a thick head of curls that she had obviously tried to iron straight, an impossible feat, living this close to the ocean. Her backpack was hanging open and her wallet was about to fall out.     

I shuffled after the girl like a nine-toed hobbit. “Excuse me! Excuse me!” I called

She stopped and turned. “Are you talking to me?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but your backpack is unzipped, and it looks like your wallet is about to make a jump for it.” I reached around and zipped it for her.

“Thanks a lot,” she said. “I’ve never seen you around.”

“I’m new. It’s my first day here.”

She had a tiny rhinestone stud in her nose, but everything else about her looked Shirley Temple-like. “Welcome to Pelican Bay High. I’m Julie.”

“I’m Brazil.”

“Isn’t that a country?”

“Yeah, the South Americans named it after me.”

She laughed. “Nice to meet you, Brazil. And thanks for saving my wallet. Where are you headed first?”

“My locker.” I pulled out the sticky note where the clerk had written the number. “Locker 274.”

Julie pointed down the hall. “I think that number is near the end where the glass doors open to the quad.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you around.” I headed down the long stretch of lockers and searched for number 274. “Please don’t be on the bottom, please don’t be on the bottom,” I whispered. I was  getting warmer. And there it was, on the bottom. This meant no short skirts and no high heels for the remainder of the year.

I stooped down and fidgeted with the lock cursing under my breath. It popped open. There was an old Algebra test crumpled inside. It was an F. A pair of gray running shoes stopped two lockers down. I glanced up. It was the harmonica guy. He had long, black hair and a cute butt. That was all I could see from my angle.

Now there were two big white shoes behind me. “Could you hurry? I need to get my books.”

I threw my lunch into my locker and slammed it shut. The jerk behind me was standing so close, I had to slither up the face of the lockers to stand. I turned and stared at a massive chest and thick neck that was topped by a big, blonde shaved head.

“Well, what do we have here? Fresh meat.” His eyes did a rude once over of me from head to toe.

There was nothing more special than being referred to as dead flesh. I tried to scoot to the right but the ape followed me like we were doing one of those goofy mirror pantomimes.

“I’m Hank,” he said attempting to dazzle me with his smile. I had this funky habit of making a mental catalogue of guys I met. This guy would be the second entry on my R for Repulsive page right beneath Bradley Simkus who used to snort mashed potatoes through his nose on turkey and gravy day.

“That’s nice,” I said. “Now, if you don’t mind, you’re in my way.”

Hank glanced over at harmonica guy. “What the hell are you looking at, Dracula?”

Harmonica guy shrugged and looked at me with smiling eyes. Really dark brown and long lashed smiling eyes.

I squirted out from the space between the two guys and headed down the hall. Fishing in my pocket, I realized I’d lost my schedule. The morning was off to a supreme start.

“You dropped this when you were helping Julie with her backpack. That was cool of you to limp after her like that.” It was harmonica guy. He handed me my schedule and glanced down at my foot. “Sports injury?”

“Packing tape accident,” I answered.

“That sticky stuff can be brutal.” He had smooth olive skin and a silver hoop in each ear.

I grabbed the schedule from him. Hank walked over, purposely clashed shoulders with the guy, then lumbered down the hall, his knuckles nearly scraping the ground as he walked.

I watched him walk away then turned back to the cute guy. “I see even this school has its resident caveman.”

“All he needs is a club and a bone through his nose.” A crooked smile tilted his mouth. It was one of those half smiles that could make a guy look either clueless or sexy. His was definitely sexy. 

“Actually, the bone piercing thing is more aborigine than caveman. Woolly mammoth bones were too big to be worn as jewelry,” I said dryly.

He stared at me and I figured I’d already scared this one off with that ridiculous statement. “The small foot bone of the saber tooth would have been the perfect size for someone’s nose.”

I nodded in agreement. “I think we have only the Flintstones to blame for the common misconception that cavemen wore bones.”