The Spirit Keeper Read online

  The Spirit Keeper

  by

  Melissa Luznicky Garrett

  The Spirit Keeper Copyright 2012 Melissa Luznicky Garrett

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced, except for brief

  quotations, without permission from the author.

  The Spirit Keeper is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

  events are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Any similarities to actual people, places, or events are coincidental.

  Published 2012

  Cover design by Damonza www.Damonza.com

  For Hannah, Jacob, and Bridget ~

  the keepers of my spirit

  Acknowledgments

  The publication of this book was a long time coming; about five years in the making, in fact. Most likely it would never have seen the light of day if not for the unfailing support and good-natured pestering of one of my biggest fans, Nova Ordner. When I wanted to give up and shelve Sarah’s story indefinitely, Nova poked and prodded until I finally agreed to give it yet one more go. And I’m really glad I did.

  First and foremost, I must thank those early readers who had to wade through some very shoddy work in order to find the heart of the story: Nova Ordner, Lauren Loiacono, Marisa Hopkins, Natalie Allan, Leah Wilds, April Brown, and MaryBeth Mulhall. With your kind and gentle, but no less honest, feedback, I was able to coax and mold this story in to becoming what I’d envisioned all along. Thanks, also, to Anne Riley.

  Thank you to Damonza for the exquisite cover design. You were able to capture Sarah Redbird exactly as I imagined her and create a cover that I am so very proud to show off.

  Thank you to Emlyn Chand for all you’ve done to pave the way for Indie authors.

  Thank you to the multi-talented Lauren Loiacono for the new author photo, and also for putting up with my hysterical bouts of laughter throughout the photo shoot.

  Thank you to Ian for your incredible patience while I cried and ranted throughout much of this creative process. Thanks, also, to our children—Hannah, Jacob, and Bridget—for accepting who I am and realizing that Mommy must have time alone each day to escape to a world of her own making.

  Thank you to the many friends, fans, and supporters I’ve met online. While there are too many of you to name individually, please know that I can’t do any of this without you. Or, rather, I could, but it would be very lonely work.

  Last but not least, thank you to my readers. Without you, I wouldn’t have a reason for what I do.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  I was going to be late to English.

  Again.

  I was standing at my locker, switching out the load of heavy books as quickly as I could, when something cold and hard hit me in the side of the face. My hand instinctively flew to my cheek, but whatever it was had already bounced off and rolled away in the opposite direction.

  A grape.

  I looked up just in time to see some senior, whose beefy face I recognized, but name I didn’t know, raise his arm and take aim. I didn’t even have the chance to duck.

  The grape hit me right at the neckline of my V-neck and disappeared down my shirt. I could feel it wedged between my bra and left boob, but there was nothing I could do but leave it. I wasn’t about to stick my hand down there and dig it out in front of everyone, like I was hunting for buried treasure or something.

  Senior Dude was laughing. So was Katie.

  I should have known.

  Katie Cunningham was the requisite snob of the junior class. She’d been an irritating thorn in my side ever since the fifth grade. Every school has one—the girl who feels entitled to treat others like crap—and Hilltop High was no exception.

  “Would you please be so kind as to call off your dog, Katie?” I said through gritted teeth. I could feel the cold wetness of the grape against my skin and hoped it would at least stay in one piece until I could get it out after my next class. I didn’t have time to go to the bathroom now.

  Katie raised an over-plucked brow. “Hey Navajo,” she said, punctuating the last syllable as an intended insult. “Don’t forget what Mrs. Raines told you about being late again.”

  I slammed the locker door, ignoring the taunt, and hoisted my bag over my shoulder. “Don’t pretend to be concerned about me, Katie. It’s not a flattering look on you. And anyway, you’ll be just as late if you don’t hurry up, too.”

  Katie made an ugly face, and Senior Dude flipped me the bird.

  “Nice. You two make such a lovely couple,” I said, turning my back on them and practically sprinting down the hall for English.

  I scooted around the corner, proud of my rare witty comeback, and entirely missed the leg that jutted out in front of me. One minute I was minding my own business, patting myself on the back as I made my way to class, and the next I had completely face-planted on the scuffed linoleum floor.

  And now I had a squashed grape in my bra.

  Fantastic.

  “Oh man. I’m so sorry. That was totally an accident.”

  I looked up to see one of Senior Dude’s friends leaning against the locker, a smirk on his arrogant face. “I’m sure it was,” I said.

  I got to my feet, my dignity still somehow intact despite the laughing and pointing going on. I had bit the inside of my lower lip, and the pooling of blood and saliva in my mouth was making me come very close to gagging.

  I grabbed my bag and quick-walked to the nearest bathroom to rinse my mouth and take inventory of the overall damage, but more so to escape the laughter.

  The constant tormenting didn’t mortify me the way it used to. It just pissed me off. And it pissed me off that it pissed me off.

  Why did I even care what Katie and her idiot friends thought of me? They were mean and nasty to everyone who wasn’t part of their little clique, but I’d been an outsider to them since Day One.

  Despite growing up in a town where “Native American” made up less than one percent of the student population, I had never felt out of place. I had never let the color of my skin and hair, or the shape of my mouth and eyes, define me. I had been just me . . . until I met Katie. She had singled me out and made it perfectly clear that under no uncertain terms would I ever be like her and her cookie-cutter friends.

  The teasing got really bad in the seventh grade. Katie had sprouted long legs and big boobs over the summer break, and I was still wearing a training bra and waiting to get my first period. Things more or less evened out once I hit freshmen year, but none of that mattered. She was still the prettiest of all and had practically every guy eating out of the palm of her hand. But at least I was smarter, a fact from which I took a small amount of comfort.

  I was still standing in front of the mirror with a wet paper towel pressed against my mouth when the bell rang. I took another look at my mangled lip and considered making the hike to the nurse’s office across campus. At least she would give me a legitimate excuse for being late. But I dismissed that idea almost as soon as I thought of it. The nurse was a bit of an alarmist and called home about everything, and Aunt Meg tended to worry. She’d probably insist on picking me up and rushing me to the emergency room for stitches. I so di
dn’t need that drama.

  Instead, I rifled through my bag for a tube of tinted lip gloss and dabbed some on. I hoped it would mask the damage, even though I could already feel the swelling settling in. As if my lips weren’t big enough already. I sucked in the bottom one and stood back to see if that made a difference. Not a chance. I gave up and instead fished the flattened grape out of my bra, cleaning away the sticky residue as best as I could.

  By the time I finally made it to class, I was already ten minutes late. Mrs. Raines was at the whiteboard with her back turned to everyone, so I snuck in and wiggled my fingers at Priscilla on the way to my seat. She touched her bottom lip and shrugged her shoulders, but I just rolled my eyes and shook my head. She’d have to wait until after class to hear the details.

  “Mrs. Raines,” Katie said, turning around in her seat to glower at me. I had just sat down and was unloading my books from my bag, but I closed my eyes in defeat, knowing what was coming. “Be sure not to mark Sarah absent today. It turns out she’s here, after all. She’s just late.”

  Mrs. Raines stopped mid-stroke and turned to face the class, her eyes darting around before finally landing on me. “You’re tardy,” she said, as if that fact hadn’t already been established.

  “Yes. That would appear to be true,” I said out of pure nervousness, which set off a wave of muffled giggling. Talking back to Mrs. Raines was like poking a sleeping bear: a very bad idea.

  I gave Katie the stink-eye for tattling, but she just smiled really big and turned back around. It occurred to me that someone so mean shouldn’t be allowed to have teeth as perfect as hers. And then I wondered what she’d look like with one of them missing.

  “Do you have a pass?”

  I considered telling Mrs. Raines exactly what had happened, that one of Katie’s minions had tripped me in the hall and left me with a fat, bloody lip. But then I remembered who I was talking to. It’s not like she actually cared about what went on outside the classroom. I’d already tried that approach once before.

  “No,” I said.

  Mrs. Raines smiled—she actually smiled—as if expecting my answer all along. “Detention. After school. One hour.”

  My cheeks felt instantly hot. I had known this would happen, and yet I couldn’t believe it was really happening. People like me—people on the honor roll—just didn’t get detention.

  “But I have to work today!” I said.

  “That’s not my problem, Miss Redbird. If you can’t make it this afternoon, you can serve double detention Monday and Tuesday. Your choice.”

  “Fine,” I said, gritting my teeth. “I’ll be here.” I shut my mouth so I wouldn’t be tempted to say anything else that might make it worse.

  “Let this be a lesson to you,” she said, pointing an arthritic finger at me and then around the classroom, “and to everyone else. Do not be late to my class. Just because it’s almost the end of the school year does not give you permission to slack off.”

  Mrs. Raines turned once again to the whiteboard. I put my forehead on the edge of my desk and stared at my thighs. Katie was the biggest witch ever.

  One of these days, I thought.

  After a few minutes, I felt a tap on my right shoulder. I turned my head, and the guy sitting next to me placed a note in front of my nose. I recognized the chicken scratch at once and sat up, glancing to the front of the room where Priscilla sat drumming her fingers against the desk top. I waited until Mrs. Raines was off on a tangent and then quietly unfolded the paper.

  Detention, huh? Birds of a feather, and all that. You won’t be alone. I’ve got detention, too. Yeah, yeah. Spare me the lecture. ~P

  Priscilla had been my best friend since the fifth grade, the year I went to live with Aunt Meg and her brother, David, on the other side of town. I’d had to transfer schools and everything, which pretty much sucked. But Priscilla and I saw eye to eye on almost everything, especially our mutual hate of Katie.

  I picked up my pen and scribbled obviously my repeated lectures haven’t done any good and I’ll tell you what happened at lunch on the paper before folding it closed. When Mrs. Raines wasn’t looking, I passed the note to my neighbor, and it slowly made its way to the front of the room.

  Texting would be a lot more efficient, I thought, for what had to be the hundredth time. Sooner or later we were bound to get caught passing notes.

  When class was finally over, I gathered my books and plucked the detention slip from Mrs. Raines’s gnarled fingers, refusing to meet her eyes or say anything to her. Then I slogged out the door to meet Priscilla.

  She smiled and clapped me on the back as though I’d just won a major award. “So what are the odds we’d both get sentenced to an afternoon in purgatory on the very same day, huh?”

  I turned a critical eye on her. “I’m beginning to think you secretly love detention.”

  “As if. I’m just incredibly unlucky.”

  We followed the herd to the cafeteria, having to practically yell at each other to be heard over the noise. “Spill it,” I said. “What are you in for this time?”

  “The usual.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You couldn’t give it up for one measly hour? When are you going to learn?”

  Priscilla looked horrified at the suggestion, her freckled nose scrunching up to show just how crazy an idea she thought that was. “The problem is Coach Wally doesn’t understand it’s a compulsion. I am literally compelled to chew gum. Like how some people twist their hair or pick their nose.”

  “That’s disgusting,” I said, though it didn’t stop me from laughing.

  Priscilla went on. “So we were sitting on the field listening to Coach Wally tell us again how to pass a stupid soccer ball, and he called me to the front of the class. I assumed he wanted me to show everyone my awesome soccer skills.”

  “Only you don’t play soccer,” I pointed out. “Or any other sport, for that matter.”

  “That’s beside the point,” Priscilla said, waving her hand for me to be quiet. “Anyway, I assumed he wanted me to demonstrate my awesome soccer skills. But then he tore a piece of paper from his notebook and told me to spit my gum in it. And then he told me to sit back down and proceeded to give us a ten-minute lecture about why we’re not supposed to chew gum during gym. Like we haven’t heard that one before.”

  Coach Wally strictly prohibited gum-chewing during gym. This rule was especially because of the kid who nearly choked on a piece at the beginning of the year. Coach had to perform the Heimlich, and then the district got all nervous and sent home a note to parents warning of the dangers of chewing gum while doing any sort of physical activity. As if we’re all completely inept at chewing gum and walking at the same time.

  “So did that little incident embarrass you enough to quit?” I asked.

  Priscilla snorted. “Not a chance. And I didn’t spit it out. I just stuck it under my tongue. See?” She pushed out the piece of chewed gum with her tongue and held it clenched between her front teeth.

  “And what if you had choked?” I said, biting back my laughter while attempting to give Priscilla what I hoped was a severe look. “Coach would’ve had to give you the Heimlich. Or even CPR.”

  Priscilla cringed. “Ew. Okay, Miss Smarty Pants. I didn’t exactly think of that.” Then her face bloomed into a smile. “I might not care so much if he looked like Taylor Lautner, but he’s definitely no Taylor Lautner. Or Jackson Rathbone, for that matter. Now that boy is hot.”

  I laughed. “I think you’ve watched Twilight one too many times.”

  We entered the bee-hive of a cafeteria, and I immediately veered toward the milkshake dispenser for my daily dose. Then I grabbed a slice of cheese pizza from under the warmer and paid the cashier. I stuffed the change into the pocket of my frayed denim shorts, knowing that the loose coins most likely wouldn’t see the light of day again until Meg fished them out of the washing machine. I tried not to feel too guilty about that as I walked off.

  I had just met Priscilla near the
side door when an uprising of laughter caught our attention, and we both turned to see what was happening. Not surprisingly, Katie was at the center of the commotion.

  “That’s gross,” I observed. “Isn’t there some policy against giving lap-dances at school?”

  Katie was straddling some guy’s lap and had her hands twined through his dark hair. The girl seriously did not know the meaning of personal space. To his credit, the guy didn’t appear to be enjoying it too much. He batted away her hands and stood up, almost dumping Katie on her butt. Priscilla and I laughed at that. But Katie just tugged on his hand and linked her arm through his, keeping him from walking away.

  I actually felt sorry for him.

  “That’s Adrian,” Priscilla said. “He just transferred here. He’s in my calculus class.”

  “He’s cute. I’m sure Katie will have him wrapped around her little finger in no time at all.”

  “You’re not related, are you?” she asked, a deliberate teasing in her voice.

  I narrowed an eye at her. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. He could be Hispanic for all we know. Or Asian.” I squinted to get a better look. “It’s kind of hard to tell from here.”

  “For your information, I’m not assuming. I heard him talking to the teacher about it. Apparently he used to live on some reservation up north.” Priscilla shook her head in awe, her smile widening. “Can you imagine? An actual Indian reservation. Do you think he lived in a tepee and wore leather moccasins? God, I bet he looks hot in leather.”

  I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from Katie and this Adrian guy, and I felt the blood start to boil underneath my skin. “Why is Katie being all nice to him? She makes fun of me for being Indian all the time.”

  Priscilla snorted. “For one thing, he’s a guy. And for another, just look at him.”

  I sighed. “Point taken.” Then I pushed through the side exit, Priscilla’s laughter trailing behind me.

  We sat down on the pocked concrete stairs overlooking the faculty and staff parking lot. It wasn’t the most scenic view, but it had been our spot for the past three years. Almost everyone else had stayed inside to eat, but there was a spattering of small groups braving the heat, sitting on the browning grass or at the wooden picnic benches in the courtyard.