Dylan, p.5
Dylan, page 5
When Mrs. Wright opened the door and waited. My heart took a leap and that sick feeling returned. There were too many people in the room. I don’t know how many, but they were everywhere. I looked over my shoulder for an escape. I wasn’t quick enough. Shirley nudged me inside.
“Everybody, I want you to meet our new roommate, Dylan,” Mrs. Wright said to all the faces staring at me. Vultures hungering after road kill is what I saw. “And this is his lovely cousin, Shirley Barber.”
An energetic chorus of “Hi, Shirley” and a low tentative mumble of “Hi Dylan,” sounded throughout the room. I had my hands in my pockets and kept my head bowed, not wanting to see any faces.
“Hey, everyone!” Shirley was filled with enthusiasm. I don’t think she had ever been happier. “This is my dearest cousin Dylan,” she put her arm around my shoulder. “You all be good to him. He means a lot to me!”
I glared at her from the corner of my eye and stood stiff as she hugged me. What a liar! She never hugged me before in her life. Never.
“We will,” a man spoke up. “So long as you come around and check on us!” Laughter resonated against the unfamiliar walls. They were mocking me, siding with my cousin against me. For a moment I thought I heard my mother in their voices. I looked up for only a second and could see their teeth. They looked like a den of lions ready to pounce. Threatened by their jeering, I tightened my hold on my backpack, wondering if I shouldn’t pull some magic from my pocket to terrify them. I could throw flames into the room to make them stop! But I decided against it because Shirly was there and she didn’t deserve to see my power.
Mrs. Wright took a stand next to me and pointed around the room at everyone, naming names. She had a strange smell to her and I decided that was the scent of her deodorant because it sure didn’t smell like perfume. People nodded, but that was the extent of their greeting. I kept my head bowed and peeked up at each of them. I wouldn’t remember names or faces. I didn’t want to. I’d be gone in the morning.
“Mrs. Benson in the wheel chair over there,” Mrs. Wright said. “Mr. Gravestone.” He was a middle-aged man who didn’t seem to have anything wrong with him except maybe his attitude. He didn’t like me. I could tell by the sneer on his face. “Mr. Bromheimer,”
“Hello, Dylan.” A gray haired and feeble man saluted me. His was the only voice that seemed warm and hospitable.
The last person Mrs. Wright introduced me to was Randy Hartman. Randy was about as young as I was, in a wheel chair, and sleeping. With the introductions over, I cleared my throat and stuttered in a low voice, “where is my room?”
“Oh yes, your room is upstairs. Shirley, we don’t let guests upstairs, so he’ll have to carry his things up there by himself. Dylan, once you unpack you can come down and have a conversation with everyone, Sort of break the ice, you know? And then have dinner with us. The house rules are posted on the wall over there,” she pointed to a spot on the wall next to a wrought iron baker’s rack where dishes, cups and saucers had been stacked. “We’ll also give you a print-out of the rules. Mr. Gravestone oversees that.”
I glanced at him. He gave a heavy nod and then lifted his chin as if telling me he had a job and was proud of it.
“That way you can become acquainted with our routine. We expect everyone to do chores, and we’ll give you instructions on when and where. Your cousin and I will get your paperwork filled out.” She called out to someone in the back room. “Liona, will you get the key to room 8 and show Dylan where he’ll be staying?”
I stared at the girl named Liona as she emerged out of the shadows. She rummaged through a buffet looking for the key; chewing gum with her weight shifted to the side so one hand was on her hip and the other pushing things around in the drawer. Her hair caught my attention, too; brushed up and over to one side, streaked with purple and orange spikes which fell over her eyes. The bare side of her head was shaved in a pattern of triangles. Skillfully done. She wore one hoop earring and several more jewels in her ear that sparkled whenever they caught the light from the chandelier. She had as much black on as Aunt Agnes wore at Uncle Jim’s funeral, only it looked good on her. Real good. She had on a leather jacket with a chain draping out of her pocket and a wide belt with silver grommets. Her skirt was short and tight, and she had black stockings and tall black boots. I’d never seen anyone dress like that before. Maybe because of the way her clothes fit is why I couldn’t take my eyes off her. When the key was in her hand, she tossed the shiny object in the air, caught it, and at the same time, caught me staring. Her eyes were beautiful. Green and bright like a cat’s eyes, lined with thick black lashes.
“Let’s go.” She had a raspy tone and tossed her head to the side for me to follow. My heart raced, but then when she snickered, my shoulders fell. She sounded too much like Shirley. My left-hand throbbed in my pocket and I hoped I wasn’t drumming up uncontrollable black magic. I followed her up the stairs, suitcase in hand and backpack slung over my shoulder, glad to leave the voices of my cousin and the strangers behind.
The creamy colored hallway threatened to cave in on me, being so narrow. The floor creaked under my feet as we walked on the worn green carpet, past a row of rooms. She stopped at the end of the hall, turned the key and pushed a door open. When I took a step forward, her boot swung out in front of me and I tripped and fell flat on my face. I scrambled to stand up and jumped away from her.
“Oops,” she said.
“What did you do that for?” I took a moment to catch my breath and straighten my clothes.
“Do what?”
“Trip me. You tripped me.”
“You stumbled over my foot. Guess I have big feet.”
Suddenly I was back with my Mom and she was reprimanding me for some dumb thing I did. I shuddered as a mild electric shock raced through my body. I glared at Liona, her big green eyes all innocent. I clenched the inside of my pocket with my left hand because power whirled through my body and I didn’t want to do something stupid.
Her eyes grew wide and I swear she read my thoughts. “Magic, is it?”
“What?”
“I know what’s happening to you.”
How could she? I looked down at my jacket pocket. I didn’t see anything, but I sure felt it.
“Listen here. I can cast a spell or two, too. So, don’t think you’re anything special. You do your work and be nice to people and we’ll all get along. Otherwise I can make your stay here as black as Hades.”
Her words were intimidating, but I didn’t want her to think I was afraid. The magic in me subsided.
“My life’s already black.” Taking my hand out of my pocket, I set my suitcase down on the bed. I didn’t take my pack off my back because I needed to protect Annabella from this witch.
“You think?”
It is.” I had forgotten all the advice Uncle Jim had given me about talking to a bully. I was supposed to turn around and walk away but here she was in my room. Where was I to go?
“So, you’re a victim? And I suppose you plan on hiding away in your room and snubbing everyone here?”
“No. I’m not a victim.” Uncle Jim would never let me position myself as a victim. He explained how bad my life would be if I thought people were picking on me all the time, even if they were, because that kind of attitude would keep me from doing things for myself. He told me to take each moment at a time and that there were moments when I could stand up tall, ready to defend myself. I was supposed to live for those moments. I straightened my back and lifted my chin, like Uncle Jim had me rehearse repeatedly, ever since I was little.
“Just so you know, I’m especially intolerant of people who hide inside of shells and who put up brick walls. First impression tells me you’re one of those, so open up, buddy or you’ll have nothing but enemies here.”
“Not sure I want friends,” I said.
“Oh yeah, you do.”
She stood in the doorway, chewing her gum. I set my pack on the bed next to the suitcase, and then faced her empty handed, mustering all the bravery I could. Uncle Jim had told me to confront my enemies and not to back down. I took a breath, counted to ten and then looked her square in the eye. I didn’t want to fight, not with a girl especially. Especially not with a pretty girl. “Look, I got bullied in high school, so I don’t need this.” I lowered my voice trying hard not to let the anger show.
We stared at each other. I know she was thinking of something snotty to say, I could tell by the way she looked at me and by the way she popped her gum. Pink gum, and she had to scrape the busted bubble off her lips with her teeth. She did so with no trouble and chewed the same gum over again, and then she popped it yet again.
“I can see why,” she finally retorted.
Uncle Jim had also advised me that work was the best way to calm myself, so I turned away from her and ignored her. I started putting some of my clothes in the drawers, folding them up first because they had gotten wrinkled in the suitcase.
“Who’s Uncle Jim?” Liona asked, still chewing.
Startled, I glanced up. How did she know my uncle? “Who wants to know?”
“I do.”
I ignored her and folded up a shirt, tucking it in the top drawer. There had been no reason for her to pry into my private life, especially by reading my mind. I wasn’t going to tell her anything.
“Why don’t you just go live with him?’
“I did.”
“So? What happened? What’s wrong? Did he kick you out?”
That was enough! I set the stack of clothes down and turned to her, crushed inside. I didn’t know who she was or what she was trying to do to me, but I had to stop her before I exploded. Uncle Jim told me to always be honest, to fight for the truth so that’s what I did.
“Uncle Jim died,” I began, trying to find words to explain without getting too personal. “We took care of each other, but he’s gone now, and my Aunt is selling the house and doesn’t know what to do with me, so she brought me here. So here I am. I can’t help that you don’t like me, but here I am. Now what?”
She stopped chewing. I think maybe I struck a chord with her and woke her up somehow. Maybe she isn’t as mean as she wants to be.
I went on. “How did you know about my uncle? Did my aunt tell you? Did someone from my family come here and talk about me?”
“If they did I wasn’t in on the conversation.”
“How then?”
She chewed her gum at me, a snarky smile, the spitting image of Shirly. “Who’s Shirly?”
I frowned.
She laughed. “I’ve got you puzzled. Say it.”
I said nothing.
“Let me help you out. I read minds. You can’t think anything without me knowing about it.”
A heat rushed to my head. How was I going to stay private with this person around? “So, what do you want?” I asked. “Do you want me to crawl in a hole? Do you want me to hate you? What?”
“I don’t want anything except for you to cooperate because trying to keep this place together is friggin hard enough as it is. We didn’t need another tenant, especially someone who is going to demand more attention than we can give.”
“I’m not here to cause trouble. And I could care less if I get any attention. I prefer not to! I didn’t even ask to be here.”
“Yeah? Well, that can be a problem too.”
I realized she was blocking the doorway and suddenly I felt cramped. “No problem because I can skip out and let you have your stupid group home all to yourselves.”
“Don’t you dare! Mrs. Wright needs the money to keep this place going or she wouldn’t have taken you on. Mess things up and you’ll answer to me.”
I wanted to make a face at her but that would have been juvenile. Uncle Jim always told me to act my age. Twenty years old! I didn’t need to be making childish faces, so I held my tongue in my mouth. “Answer to you? Are you the warden?”
“Kinda.”
“What would you do? Lock me in my room?” That didn’t sound like a bad idea to me, so I cracked a smile. She glared in response to my grin. “Or would you beat me up?”
Her eyes narrowed even more, and then she shook her head real slow. “Forget I said anything. Just know that you’ll have chores.”
“So? I’m not afraid of work.”
“Of course, you aren’t.” She made a move toward the hallway.
“I’m a good worker,” I added, softly. That stopped her in her tracks and she opened her mouth to say something, but I guess she decided not to because she slipped all the way out of the room at that point. I shut the door, looking for a lock on the inside, but there was none.
The room was simple, not unlike my room at Uncle Jim’s. I hadn’t had a bed frame before, my mattresses at Uncle Jim’s lay on the floor. The bed was firm, but I didn’t mind. The clean sheets surprised me—that was a new luxury. A navy blue wool blanket looked cozy enough.
A dresser made of dark wood with a mirror twice as big as the one I had before. There was a closet and a few hangers. Mostly the room was comfortable. I opened the window to release the stuffy air. The scent of cedar from the woods filled the room and made it seem more spacious than it was. From the window I had a view of the front porch, the driveway, and the yard. For that I considered myself lucky. My room was also situated at the end of the hall, which meant I probably wouldn’t hear a lot of foot traffic during the night. Plus, I could watch who came to the house, and who left. I might like my room, especially if I can hang out in it without being bothered by the other tenants.
If not, my only real hope would be to run away.
I sat on the bed for a long time thinking, wondering how I could use my magic to get out of here. I might have to wait until dark, but I’ve never been real fond of wandering around at night. My bedtime was 9:30. If I left in the day with my pack and suitcase, someone would get suspicious. Worse, Liona would read my mind and probably stop me or tell Mrs. Wright.
If I did get away, I could sneak back into Uncle Jim’s and stay there after Aunt Agnes was done cleaning the house. Once I was at the house I would keep it from being sold. I’d just live there, and no one would be able to get rid of me. My magic would keep me well-fed. The idea seemed feasible.
I wanted out. I wanted my old life again. I wanted Uncle Jim, or at least the beach at Windy Point.
I pulled the shoe box out of my pack, unwrapped Annabella and held her in my hands, thinking about Uncle Jim and what he’d say if he knew where I was. He never liked establishments like this. When Aunt Agnes talked about putting him in a veteran’s home he got downright mad at her. I think he’d be equally mad at seeing what she’d done to me. Wish I had the guts that Uncle Jim had.
A few minutes passed, and I found my mind wandering outside, thinking about the foamy sea again, and the oyster shells and how happy I had made Tim Lan with the little round balls I gave him. Already I missed the beach, though I knew I wasn’t far from the ocean. The tingling began in my fingers at that moment. I touched Annabella with my left hand, swirling some of the colors in her dress so that they blended into each other. Soon enough, and with the right twist of my wrist, a little marble popped up and rolled around in the crease of her gown. I picked the ball up with my left hand and held the spun colors to my eyes. The power buzzed inside of me, a steady vibration like how the motor of an egg beater shakes your hand when you’re mixing a cake batter. The energy grew stronger and stronger until my fingers trembled. Soon, light darted out of my hand into the marble that I held, and for the first time ever, I made something glow like how Tim Lan had made the pearl glow. The more I stared at the ball, the brighter the colors became until the marble shone and illuminated the entire room. I shut the overhead light off to get the full effect, and right away my spirits picked up. I could handle being here a little while, so long as I can practice magic in my room.
That’s when there was a knock at the door. I could tell by her bubbly voice that the visitor was Mrs. Wright. “Dylan, dinner is ready. Wash up and come on down, now.”
I stuck the marble in my coat pocket. My pocket lit up like a jack-o-lantern on Halloween. I looked around the room, searching for something to conceal the glow, because even though I wasn’t feeling the power in me anymore, the marble was still radiant. I stuck it in the shoebox, wrapped Annabella up again and put everything back in my pack. The camouflage didn’t work all that well because a dull glow could still be seen through my pack.
By this time, the smell of food lured me into facing the crowd downstairs. I hadn’t eaten since the peanut butter sandwich Shirley made me before she rushed me out of the house that morning. I grabbed my backpack, hesitant to leave Annabella in the room by herself, and stepped into the hall. The door shut by itself and after trying the handle I realized the door also locked by itself too. Not sure I liked that, being as I didn’t have a key.
Chapter 7
Served à la Fantasia
The first person I encountered at the bottom of the stairwell after I set my backpack down was Mrs. Benson in her wheelchair. She was as thin as a toothpick. Her arms had all sorts of bruises on them and her skin was as pale as the powder blue dress she wore. Her hair was loosely pinned in a bun, with silver ringlets dangling over her ears. She might have been a pretty lady when she was younger, because she held her head up proud-like, and had a certain grace to her, even though she nodded her head a lot. She had a big smile on her face, but I don’t think she even saw me because I smiled back, and she just kept staring. “Eddie?” she said to me and held out her hand. “What time is it?”
I looked at my watch. “A quarter to four, but I’m not Eddie.”
She nodded some more. Mrs. Wright walked up behind her and took the handles to her wheelchair. “Dylan, Mrs. Benson’s got dementia so she probably thinks you’re someone else. No need to fuss over her, she’s happy to see you whoever you are. Go on in the dining room and have a seat at the table.”
