Chapter Five
My mom’s quiet steps whisper across the beige carpet when she comes back from talking with my dad before he heads back to work. She doesn’t go back to sorting photos. Instead, I hear the ripping of packing tape off of boxes in the kitchen. I can see her emptying each box of kitchen supplies and finding places for them as I walk out of my bedroom and across the living room floor. I get the hint that we are done sorting photos for the day, but I want to know more about the girls, and I know exactly who to go to for answers.
My parents forced me to move to the middle of nowhere for one main reason. To be closer to my grandfather. He is lonely in his old house, and his weekly invitations to visit were rarely accepted when we lived in Manhattan because of the distance and my dad’s busy job. Even though before the move I only saw my grandfather once or twice a year, and even less over the past few years, I remember the visits well and looked forward to seeing him each time.
My grandpa’s stories have always entertained and enthralled me. I remember sitting in his lap for hours as a small girl while he fed me cookies and tall tales. Even now, I can easily sit down with him to hear about crab fishing in Alaska or trekking through South American jungles. I know he will gladly talk about most any topic, but will he tell me anything more about Maera and Katie than my dad did?
He won’t be too afraid to talk about a sister who died more than fifty years ago, will he? My mom said that I just need to give my dad time to come to grips with his guilt over Katie’s death. How much time does it take, though? Something tells me I can’t afford to wait too long for answers. Thinking of ways to approach the subject of Maera’s death, I pile a stack of stray photos back into a box and wander into the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom,” I begin, “would it be okay if I went to see Grandpa this afternoon?”
My mom smiles. “I would love for you to spend some time with Grandpa, but it will have to wait until tomorrow.”
“Why,” I ask, my voice dangerously close to whining. Does she have some other pointless task for me to do?
“Your grandpa had to go to the city for a doctor’s appointment today. He’ll be back this evening,” she says. “Why don’t you plan on visiting him tomorrow morning?”
“Why couldn’t Dad just check him out?”
I know my constant complaining irritates my mom on a regular basis, especially lately, but it annoys me that the one time I really want to visit Grandpa is the one day I can’t. My mom is constantly reminding me that growing up often means things don’t always go the way you want them to. Every time she says it, it just makes me clench my teeth in frustration and wish time would speed up for me. Things always seem to work out just fine for the adults I know. I am the only one who is constantly being handed the short stick.
“Your father is not a cardiologist, Arra. I think it is a much wiser choice for Grandpa to continue seeing his regular doctor.” Her eyes roll lightly in my direction, though a little less poignant than usual. “Besides, you know he doesn’t have much help at the hospital. Dr. Saunders is getting ready to retire, and he’s so old he’s really not much help anyway. I’m sure Grandpa’s stories will keep until tomorrow.”
“They don’t even have the doctors they need in this town,” I mutter under my breath. I know that in all actuality, that issue was the exact reason the local hospital was so ecstatic to hire my dad. Their only doctor, Dr. Saunders, was well past his prime. Grainer has a hospital half the size of what a real hospital would be—it’s barely more than a glorified clinic—and not enough doctors and nurses to staff even that. Nobody wants to move to Grainer. Nobody but my parents.
I start to leave the kitchen, but the thought of spending another day sitting alone in my box filled room sounds much less appealing than usual. Perhaps it’s the photos I decided to put away in my nightstand after lunch. I didn’t want to go near them at the moment. Every time I look at them, the girls’ smiles seem a little less happy and somewhat more desperate. It has been a very strange morning. I want a break from my dad’s foul mood, my mom’s smothering concern, and the strange pictures.
“Do you mind if I go walk around town then? I need to get out of the house for a while.”
The surprise on my mom’s face is enough to make me laugh. She was nearly reduced to threats earlier today just to get me to run to the grocery store. The change that’s come over me is abrupt, but my mom always knows how to make the best of any situation.
“That sounds lovely, dear. Just don’t wander off anywhere, and be home in time for supper,” my mom cautions. “I might need some help getting dinner ready tonight.”
I can’t imagine anything too dreadful, or even vaguely interesting, happening to me in this tiny town, but twenty-five years of living in Manhattan is hard for my mom to overcome. Pleasure that I am finally leaving the house of my own accord is mixed with worry on her motherly face. It would be nearly impossible for my mom to adjust in the few short weeks since we moved. Even I still feel the need to peek over my shoulder when walking alone through town. That little hint of fear in my mom’s eyes feels oddly natural. I would be more bothered if my mom didn’t worry than by her cautious nature.
I doubt I could even get into trouble here if I wanted to. “I’ll be fine, Mom. I just want to see what’s here.”
“Have fun, dear.”
A soft breeze blows through the little town as I walk its length. Glancing at the shop windows, I find nothing that catches my interest. Wandering away from the main road, I turn randomly down some of the side streets. When the hard pavement eventually turns to gravel, the change makes me pause, but only for a moment. The main bulk of the town can still be seen easily. I strain my eyes and think I can even see my house from where I stand.
Kicking pebbles along the way, it feels good being out of the house, out of my room especially. I have barely come out since the move in protest of being here, but after the first few days it became incredibly boring. Of course, I could have entertained myself forever if I had just unpacked my room. Somewhere in those boxes were my computer and video games and DVD’s. If I unpacked, though, it would hardly have looked like I was angry about moving.
I sigh. It made no sense, of course, and only made me even more miserable while my parents simply went about their business, but I felt like I had to make some kind of attempt at protest. As I take in the sweet smells of the trees and plants and let the wind toss my hair, I have a feeling that I will start unpacking my room soon enough.
A quick rustling of leaves, followed by a small rabbit darting across the road, draws a strangled cry from me. My heart is pumping as I watch it disappear into another set of bushes. Annoyed that the animal surprised me so much, I kick a rock in the direction it ran.
“It’s just a rabbit,” someone says. A quick laugh follows the voice.
Spinning around, I look for the source. I haven’t seen anyone else on the dirt road since stepping onto it. It’s the main reason I kept going. I assumed it was just an access road to the nearby forest. Three boys, about my age, or maybe a little older, watch me from less than ten feet away. I can’t stop myself from gawking at them. Where did they come from? A crimson blush creeps over my cheeks until the laughter starts again. My eyes narrow. What are they doing just standing there laughing at me? I wish I had another rock to kick at them.
“Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you,” the middle one says. “We’ve just never seen anyone get so scared by a rabbit before.”
“I wasn’t scared of it,” I snap, “it just startled me. I’m just not used to Bambi’s little friends running under my feet.”
The shortest of the three snickers again, but a swift elbow to the ribs from the leader ends it quickly. Embarrassed and annoyed at their immaturity, I turn away, just wanting to continue my walk. If these three are the only boys in town, I can definitely do without dating for the next few years. The crunch of gravel behind me only makes me walk faster.
“Wait a minute,” the s
ame boy who had elbowed his friend calls out. Running over to me, he comes up short right in front of me, forcing me to either stop walking or run right into him. I stop. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to embarrass you. Evan can be a real jerk sometimes.”
Evan. That must be the chuckler’s name. Evan and the quieter one are still in their original positions. “What are you guys doing out here?” My desire for a quiet place to think led me to the gravel path, but I can’t fathom the reason anyone else would want to come out here. It’s just a dirt path through the trees. What on earth do you do in a place like this?
The boy holds up his right hand. At first I assume he’s trying to keep me from walking off, but that hardly makes any sense since I’m still just standing in front of him. Then I realize he’s trying to show me something. A leather strip drapes from his middle finger to his wrist and is held in place by thin leather ties. The strap means nothing to me. Is it some kind of backwoodsy jewelry? If it is, I’ll have to make it a point to never get into that fad. My expression must relay as much.
“Archery,” he explains. “We were shooting at targets in the field.” He gestures to the field behind where his friends are standing.
I am shocked to find three portable targets sitting amid the tall grass. The brightly colored rings are plainly visible from the road. I didn’t even notice them before. I didn’t see the truck parked just off the trail either. I look back at the other two guys, and see that one of them, the quiet one, still has a bow in his hand. How did I not notice that? I wonder, even more annoyed with myself than before. I am pretty used to being careful about who and what is around me when I’m alone. Shaking my head, I marvel at how much this place is already affecting me.
“Oh,” is all I can say.
“What, you’ve never seen a bow and arrow before either?” he asks.
“No, actually, I haven’t.” My smug voice matches my stance, but the sweet smile in the boy’s face makes me falter. “Except for on TV, if that counts.”
“Not really,” he says, his smile growing even wider. He shrugs his shoulders and looks back at his friends before turning back to me. Extending his hand, he says, “I’m Tanner. You must be the new doctor’s kid, right?”
My smile slips immediately. I hate small towns. Is that how I’ll be known for the next few years? The new doctor’s kid? I manage to force a smile back on my face before I try to speak again. “Yep, that would be me. My name’s Arra, though.”
“Arra, huh?”
“Arrabella, actually, but I prefer Arra,” I say.
“Cool, I like it,” Tanner says. He is a completely random person, who could turn out to be a total freak for all I know, but the fact that he likes my name has me trying to hide a delighted smile. He is pretty cute.
Motioning for his friends to join us, Tanner points to the shorter one. “This is Evan, and that’s Jackson.” The quiet one raises a hand with a quick wave.
“Where are you from?” Tanner asks.
“Manhattan,” I reply, wishing I was there now. The three boys look impressed, like being born in a big city is some kind of accomplishment. They should be looking at me with pity.
“How do you like Grainer?” Evan asks.
I make a face that makes answering unnecessary.
“That bad, huh?” Tanner says with a laugh.
“I miss the city,” I admit.
“Grainer’s not so bad,” the quiet Jackson replies.
“There’s nothing to do here.”
“There’s archery,” Tanner says. “Come on, we’ll show you.”
Evan and Jackson start back toward the field where the targets are set up. Tanner lags behind, probably making sure I’m not going to run off. I look back at the dirt road. There is no chance of returning to the peaceful walk now. Reluctantly, I follow Tanner into the high grasses.
I have never really enjoyed participating in sports, but watching the boys practice does seem like it might be a welcomed distraction. My thoughts have been consumed by strange dreams and disturbing photos all day. Suddenly, playing at bows and arrows with three teenage boys sounds very appealing, if somewhat dangerous.