The Spirit Keeper Read online

  I watched the house for a few minutes, chewing my bottom lip as I waited for some sign that Victor was home. But the longer I watched, the more abandoned the house appeared. Convinced that Adrian must have gotten Victor to go with him to town, I moved forward with the next phase of my plan. I took a deep breath and, deciding once and for all that the coast was clear, opened the gate and crossed the threshold.

  And then I just stood there. It was the most idiotic plan ever. Not only was I doing exactly what David and Meg told me not to do, it was probably illegal. I would probably get hauled off to juvie if I got caught. But the house looked empty enough, so I really didn’t see the harm in taking a quick peek in a few of the windows, just to make sure everything looked okay. Anyway, David had done it.

  There were a handful of kids riding their bikes up and down the street, but the few adults who were outside were too busy mowing their yards, cleaning their gutters, or washing their cars to take any notice of me. They hadn’t the slightest interest in what I was doing, which was just as well.

  Five minutes. That’s all I wanted. David and Meg wouldn’t even miss me.

  I took a deep breath and leapt from the sidewalk, and then I quick-walked up Victor’s driveway like I had every right to be there. But I detoured at the last minute to the side of the house, finally stopping at the base of a first floor window. I crouched down, only then realizing that what I was doing at that precise moment definitely qualified as suspicious. Oh well. It was too late now.

  I rose on my haunches and peered into what was the living room. Aside from the mismatched furniture ensemble consisting of a worn leather sofa and a faded mauve La-Z-Boy, the room was sparsely furnished. There was a dingy coffee table and small side table with one of its legs duct-taped together, but other than that there was nothing of interest but a few unpacked boxes. No television. No bookshelves. There were no curtains on the windows or pictures on the fireplace mantle. It was bare bones.

  From where I was crouched, I could see just past the interior front entrance of the house. My gaze traveled the length of a wide foyer where light spilled in through a stained-glass window. It cast colorful patterned shapes on the wood floor that extended up the opposite wall where they seemed to shimmer.

  A movement beyond caught my attention, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Victor. He was home, after all, and sitting at the kitchen table flipping through the pages of a newspaper.

  Victor was not a nice-looking man. His hair was much shorter than Adrian’s and not quite as black. I could see the white even from where I was. Unlike Adrian’s round face, Victor’s was long with a sharp chin and eyebrows that seemed to be permanently pulled together. His nose was a little hooked, and his thin lips were pressed into a tight scowl. I wondered if he always looked so mad.

  It was then that I realized that from where Victor was sitting at the kitchen table, he had a perfect view of his front yard. Had he seen me come out the gate and creep up his driveway? Surely not, otherwise he’d be demanding to know what I wanted.

  But even as I was second-guessing my level of intelligence for doing what I was doing, Victor got up and disappeared to an area of the kitchen that was out of my line of sight. I quickly turned around and slouched beneath the window frame, breathing heavily.

  I was acting like a complete nimrod. I was a smart girl—in theory, if not always in practice. So why had I thought that coming over here and sticking my nose where it didn’t belong was a good idea? At the very least, I should have high-tailed it out of there as soon as I saw that Victor was home. I should have gone right back the way I had come. Or maybe I should have just listened to Meg and David in the first place.

  I scooted along the brick wall to the far corner of the house with the intention of taking off and making my getaway through the neighbor’s back yard. All I’d have to do was run down a few houses before crossing the street again. And if Victor happened to look out the window and see me, he would assume I’d been out for a walk.

  But then I heard the creak of the back door opening. I sneaked a look around the corner in time to see Victor come out and stand rooted in the middle of the deck, the phone pressed against his ear. He was scowling even more than usual.

  “I am your father, and you will listen to me.” There was a moment of silence as his features contorted into a mask of rage. And then: “We’re not going anywhere until this problem has been taken care of once and for all. You will do as I say!”

  I gasped at the ferocity of his tone and took off running toward the street as fast as I could, and was on the other side of the gate within a matter of seconds. I was safe at my own house, even though my limbs were shaking so hard in their sockets I thought they’d jiggle loose.

  Victor had obviously been talking to either Adrian or Shyla, but what was the “problem” he referred to?

  He’s not talking about me, I thought, my palms sweaty and heart racing. I couldn’t be the problem that needed to be taken care of. He could’ve been talking about anything. I was just being paranoid because of what Meg and David said.

  I stood on my tip-toes and looked through the peep-hole once more, and my heart jumped in my throat at the sight of Victor now standing in his front doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

  Looking back at me.

  Chapter 7

  True to the fickle nature of weather in upstate New York, a cold front blew in Saturday night that dumped a steady stream of rain and left us holed-up until late Sunday morning.

  The temperature dropped nearly twenty degrees and erased all traces of stickiness from the air. And once the wind finally stopped gusting, Meg went from one room to the next, throwing open windows to let in the cooler, rain-soaked breeze.

  Priscilla and I had made plans to get together that afternoon, but she called early in the morning to say that her dad had unexpectedly arrived home from his latest business trip. He was taking her out to lunch and shopping.

  “You have to work parental guilt to your advantage,” she explained to me.

  So I spent the majority of the day hiding out in my room with the door closed, nestled cozily in the blankets on my bed and surrounded by my library of books and old framed photographs of my mom. My own photo album had been lost in the fire. What little physical evidence that remained of my mom had been handed down from Meg’s personal collection.

  I picked up one of the photos and held it inches from my nose, trying to absorb every minor detail. My mother hadn’t been much older than I when it was taken. Her black hair, long and lustrous, was pulled up on one side and held in place by a turquoise turtle-shaped clip. Her eyes were dark and mischievous; her smile teasing. She looked like trouble personified, but the good kind of trouble: prank calls and buzzing the neighbor’s doorbell before running away. Not the kind of trouble that leaves a lasting legacy—the kind of trouble that forces you from the only home and people you’ve ever known.

  Not the kind of trouble that gets innocent people hurt or killed.

  I put down the photo and picked up another. In this one, the sun was hitting my mom square in the face. She had one eye squinted, as though winking, and her mouth was wide open. I could almost hear the memory of her sweet, tinkling laughter, so infectious it made me smile just to think of it.

  “I miss the sound of your voice, Mom,” I whispered. There was a terrible ache in the center of my chest, and my throat felt like it was on fire.

  There was a photo of my mom with a young Meg, and an even younger David, standing on either side of her. She had her arms slung around their shoulders, and they were both looking up at her face with obvious adoration in their eyes. My mom was looking straight into the camera with a stubborn smirk. At whatever angle I held the photo, she seemed to be looking right at me. It was my favorite.

  The last photo featured my mom with my grandparents standing behind her. She was holding a newborn baby in her arms, and there was a “Welcome Home” sign hanging on a distant wall. She looked impossibly young to be a mother, but her
joy was almost tangible. It hung about her like a halo and seemed to make her glow from the inside out.

  I had been wanted and loved by these people, I realized, even if not by my tribe. It hadn’t mattered to my family where I came from; only that I was there and theirs to keep.

  I swallowed my grief then kissed the tip of my index finger and pressed it to the image of my mother and grandparents. My heart hung like a heavy weight in my chest, as though years of sadness had caused the blood to congeal to a thick sludge. This is exactly what a broken heart feels like, I thought.

  I had so many questions about my mom that I didn’t think anyone would ever be able to answer. The most important of them being, what really happened in the woods the day she disappeared? No one could know for sure. No one, that is, except my mother.

  And my father.

  Before, whenever I’d thought about the future, I’d imagined going away to college. Maybe I’d become a teacher or go to med school. Maybe I’d become a journalist or start my own business, like Meg. I didn’t really know, but the possibility to do whatever had always been there.

  Now, I had so much more to consider: the tribe, Victor and Shyla, my feelings for Adrian . . . my father. Was he somewhere, out there?

  I shivered at the thought of him. Of ever coming face to face with him. Of ever speaking to him.

  I got out of bed and once again arranged the photos in their proper places. With my chemistry homework already done and in no mood to watch TV, I got ready for bed.

  As I was mindlessly brushing my hair, a task that usually calmed me, a movement outside the window caught my attention. I was sure I’d seen the shadow of a person from the corner of my eye, and the hair at the nape of my neck prickled.

  I scrambled to the window and cautiously stuck my head out a few inches. “Is anyone there?” I said, scanning the yard. But there was no answer. Even so, I slammed the window shut. And for the first time since the fire, I locked it tight.

  Two weeks. That’s what was standing between me and summer vacation.

  Since freshmen year, graduation had always hung just out of reach, the proverbial brass ring of my high-school career. Now it was just around the corner, and I was one step closer to the next phase of my life. But instead of being filled with excitement like I usually was, all I felt was doubt and fear about the future.

  My head was in the clouds Monday morning as I said goodbye to Meg and set off on my way to school. Despite the weekend drama, I had finals to think about, and I was stressing out big time about the oral part of the exam I’d have to give in Spanish. It wasn’t that I didn’t know my stuff; I had a solid A in the class. But Katie was in the same period, and I wasn’t putting anything past her. Just the thought of what she might do to sabotage my grade made my palms sweat.

  The grumbling rev of a car’s engine pulled me back to reality, and I looked up just as Adrian was backing out of his driveway. I did my best to ignore him, but my stomach flipped when he pulled up alongside me and asked if I wanted a ride. I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder, half expecting Meg and David to be standing there wagging their fingers in reproach.

  “Why aren’t you walking?” I said. “We live, like, three blocks from school.”

  “Exactly. Three whole blocks.” Adrian gave me a lop-sided grin. “I’m only kidding. Driving is one of the perks of being an upperclassman. Don’t you know that?”

  “Of course I do, but . . .”

  “But what? Get in. I’ll give you a lift.”

  I wanted to say yes so, so badly. How could someone like Adrian, someone who made me feel this good and tingly inside, be bad? However, I was already on the outs with David and Meg, and I didn’t relish the idea of being grounded for the rest of my life if I got caught.

  “It’s a nice day,” I said. “I think I’ll walk. But thanks for the offer.” I readjusted my bag on my shoulder and started off down the sidewalk again, watching the ground so I wouldn’t trip on the uneven pavement. No sense in making a fool out of myself by falling flat on my face.

  “Wait a minute,” Adrian said. He pulled up alongside me again and let the Bug coast at a lazy pace as I kept on walking.

  “You know you’re going to get in trouble for driving on the wrong side of the road.”

  “It’s not exactly a busy street,” he said. “Stop messing around and get in.” I didn’t have to look at his face to know that he was smiling.

  “I told you I prefer to walk this morning.”

  Adrian laughed. “All right. I see how it is. I actually like a girl who plays hard to get.”

  I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him, my mouth hanging open. “You think I’m playing hard to get?”

  His grin widened. “Aren’t you?”

  No one had ever accused me of playing hard to get, and I laughed at the ridiculousness of such an insane accusation. I rolled my eyes and began walking again, calling over my shoulder, “I don’t play games, Adrian. What you see is exactly what you get.”

  But even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew that wasn’t entirely true. What was I doing now if not flirting? It’s just that he made it so darn easy.

  “I’m glad to know that,” he said. “I’ll file it away for future reference.”

  I gave him a sidelong glance as he let the car roll steadily beside me. He was still grinning. I kept walking, afraid I’d lose my resolve at any moment and agree to let him drive me.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said at last. “It’s a standing offer. Whenever you want a ride, you’ve got one.”

  I put my finger to my lips and made a show of considering the proposition. “Okay,” I said. I figured it was safe enough to agree to a ride I had no intention of ever taking. But not because I didn’t want to.

  Adrian shot me a smile. “Great! Then I’ll see you at school.”

  Before I had a chance to respond, he sped away. I watched as his car paused at the stop sign at the end of the road before it bumped and chugged around the corner and disappeared altogether.

  I walked the rest of the way to school in a daze, trying to make heads or tails of Adrian’s intentions. If he wasn’t involved in some diabolical plan motivated by revenge, if he was genuinely interested in me . . .

  I shook my head. No matter how cute or nice he was, was it worth risking my personal safety? The sad thing was it should have been an easy answer, and yet it wasn’t.

  There was the usual congestion of cars and buses and kids swarming in front of the school when I walked up. The student parking lot was filling up quickly, but I immediately spotted Adrian’s car. He was already long gone, however, and there was a part of me that regretted not accepting the ride. I really hoped I’d see him at lunch later that day.

  “Sarah!”

  I turned in the direction of my name being called and saw Priscilla waving her arm in the air.

  “So how’d it go yesterday with your dad?” I asked, once we’d met up. At least for me, Sunday had seemed like an unbearably long day.

  Priscilla snorted. “Fine, I guess. He took me out to lunch where he promptly informed me over tobi-tama that he was leaving again to spend a week in Seattle.” She looked at her watch. “His plane should have taken off about twenty minutes ago.”

  I held up my hand. “First of all, I have no idea what tobi-tama is. But knowing you, it’s something totally gross. Secondly, I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s a type of sushi,” she said in a tone of voice that implied I should have known. “And whatever. The only reason he came home at all was because his last trip got cut short by a day and he had a suitcase full of dirty clothes he needed Laura Beth to wash. Otherwise, he would have gone straight to Seattle and not even bothered to make an appearance. I suppose I should be grateful for the few hours I got. He did buy me a new summer wardrobe, so it wasn’t a total waste.”

  “He misses you,” I said, not completely shocked by Priscilla’s less-than-loving regard for her mostly absent father. I squeezed her arm. “That�
�s why he wanted to see you. I know it sucks, but he’s doing the best he can. He’s got to work, you know.”

  Priscilla didn’t respond, which I knew from experience was her way of pretending not to care. But she had been my best friend since forever. I knew the truth, even if she didn’t say it out loud.

  “So you’ll never believe what happened this morning,” I said to rouse her out of her funk. Given the way she was looking at me from the corner of her eye, I could see she was already hooked.

  “What?”

  “Adrian offered me a ride,” I said, unable to keep my voice from pitching up with barely contained excitement.

  Priscilla gave me a playful shove. “And you didn’t accept? What’s wrong with you?”

  I shoved back, trying to come up with a good excuse off the top of my head. “Well, I don’t really know him.”

  She scoffed. “What, do you think he’s some ax-murderer?”

  “No,” I said. At least I didn’t think so. “Besides, Meg and David said I wasn’t old enough to date. Remember?”

  Priscilla burst out laughing. “It’s just a ride to school, Sarah. I can’t speak from personal experience, but I highly doubt the backseat of his car is comfortable enough to—”

  The warning bell for homeroom interrupted Priscilla’s train of thought, and I immediately picked up the pace. I didn’t want to start the week off on the wrong foot with yet another detention, and I still had to stop at my locker.

  “Later!” Priscilla called, already heading off in the opposite direction.

  First and second periods were a bore, and Mrs. Raines’s class was just as stimulating as ever, which wasn’t saying much. Katie was especially generous with the evil eye and catty remarks, though today they were more or less directed at Priscilla. As I suspected might happen, Katie was still holding a grudge for what had gone down at lunch this past Friday. I wasn’t worried for Priscilla, though. She could take care of herself.