Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 (41 page)

“It’s going to be lonely around here,” Russ’s mother said, sighing.

Carly held the door open. “Again, I’d be happy to leave Frank here if that would ease the loneliness for you.” I watched from the porch as they retreated into the house, and then I thought,
I want to go home to my own bed
.

And just like that I was in my bed, a blanket up to my chin. Only a short time had passed since I’d left and the same slant of afternoon light came through the blinds. It felt vaguely comforting to be somewhere familiar and safe. I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself. It wasn’t like my life had taken a dive. Everything about my life sucked before and it still sucked. In all fairness, it could be worse. I still had the basics: food, clothing, shelter. Hope for the future. Internet access. Cable TV. People in Darfur would love my life. Most importantly I could still astral project to Russ at night. That had to count for something.

Soon enough I dozed. Despite the sun peeking through the blinds, and the daytime sounds coming from outside—the basketball thumping in the driveway across the street, the occasional car passing—I found myself being lulled into drowsiness and finally immersed in a deep, dark sleep.

Nadia

I was jolted awake when my father rushed into my room, flipped on the overhead light, and urgently called my name. I was in such a sound sleep, it was a shock, believe me. “Nadia, Nadia, wake up.” He sat on the edge of my bed and shook me. I could barely get my eyes open.

I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the clock. Only an hour had passed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. You need to get up and pack, right away. There’s not much time.” Dad went to my closet and threw open the bi-fold doors, revealing a row of hanging clothes and my jumble of shoes and belts and such on the floor below. “I’ll get the suitcase from the storage closet while you get your things together.”

“Where are we going?” I staggered to my feet.

“
We’re
not going anywhere—it’s just you. Your friend Russ is waiting downstairs. If you don’t hurry you’ll miss your flight.”

“Russ Becker is downstairs?” I was having trouble processing this. It felt too real for a dream, but it couldn’t actually be happening either. My world had tipped on its side and nothing made sense.

“Yes, he’s waiting for you. I have decided to let you go on the trip. Russ was quite persuasive. But you have to hurry. You’ll be cutting it close.”

“Just like that? I’m going?”

He waved a hand in front of my face. “Pay attention Nadia. You must pack. Start gathering your things. Socks, underwear, toiletries. Everything you’ll need.”

He didn’t seem like he’d been coerced or subjected to mind control. I couldn’t figure out why this was happening. “Does Mom know I’m going?”

“I will explain it to her later when she gets home. Now pack. I’ll get the suitcase. It’ll have to be carry-on size, I think.” He left the room abruptly, leaving me to try to make sense of it all. I piled clothes on my bed and grabbed my shoes. I went to the bathroom and scooped up shampoo and deodorant, toothbrush and toothpaste along with a few other things. I tried to remember how long the trip was and what I might need. After my mother had declared it was out of the question, I’d suppressed everything I knew about traveling to Peru in June. I knew that in countries south of the equator the seasons were opposite of our own so it would be winter there, but I didn’t think it would be too cold. As I was going over this in my mind, it hit me that I was actually going on a Praetorian Guard secret mission with Russ, Mallory, and Jameson.

Woozy from sleep, I was having trouble believing it. I feared getting to the bottom of the stairs and finding out that my father was fooling me, that we were really taking a family trip to the Wisconsin Dells, a consolation prize for not allowing me to travel with my friends. But my dad wasn’t much for joking around, and it would be a rather sneaky, mean-spirited joke, not like him at all. He was, for the most part, a kind man.

I decided to go with it. I folded my clothes and placed them in stacks on the bed and when my father returned hauling a small suitcase and a bunch of zip lock bags, I set to work putting it all together.

“It’s so full,” Dad said, surveying the open suitcase when I was done. “Too bad. You won’t have much space if you decide to buy anything there. But that’s the way it has to be. Russ said there won’t be enough time to check a bag.”

“I guess.” I tugged at the zipper and pulled it all the way around.

He handed me a wad of money. “Russ said all your expenses will be covered, but it’s always a good idea to carry cash.”

“Thanks.” I folded the bills and put them in my pocket.

“Before you go, I’ll need the folder, the one with all the trip information,” he said. “You still have it?”

I pointed. “It’s on my dresser.”

He rifled through it and pulled out a form that said “Return to Mr. Specter” on the top. Permission for traveling and emergency medical care. “Oh, it’s filled out already,” he said, sounding puzzled.

I glanced over to see that everything was completed except for the line at the bottom. Someone had remotely activated the ink. The once blank form was now filled in with my doctor’s name and my emergency contact information. My aunt Leslie was listed as the one to call in case my parents couldn’t be reached. I wondered who made that decision. “I filled it out,” I said. “Wishful thinking.” I pointed. “You just need to sign it.”

Dad pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and signed the paper with a flourish before handing it to me.

“Thanks.” I stuffed the paper in the suitcase.

He nodded approvingly. “Maybe this is a mistake, letting you go. I don’t know.” I held my breath, worried that I wasn’t going to get to go after all. “It might give you a case of the wanderlust, and then we’ll never get you back.” He reached over to pull me into a tight hug, the kind of hug you give someone you might never see again. “Then I guess this is good-bye.”

“Dad, you’re hurting me,” I said, protesting.

He released me. “I’m sorry. Just so you know, you’re going to be missed around here.” And then his mood shifted and went from sentimental to all business. “Well, it looks like you’re set. Russ said you would call when you got to Miami. Don’t forget.”

“You’re really okay with this?”

He smiled and jabbed a thumb in the direction of the door. “Don’t ask any questions. Just go before I regret my decision.”

“You’re not coming downstairs with me?”

He shook his head. “If I watch you go, I might change my mind.”

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I saw Russ standing by the front door, a big grin on his face. “Ready?” he said.

I nodded. “I’ve never been more ready.”

He picked up the suitcase. “Let’s go.”

Outside on the driveway, a taxi waited. I had a dozen questions, but now was not the time. As the driver and Russ loaded my bags into the trunk, I had a suddenly sense of urgency, a bit of unfinished business. “I’ll be right back,” I said, and dashed back to the house. I opened the front door and stuck my head in. “Dad?” I shouted.

There was a slight shuffling noise coming from the top of the stairs. “Yes, Nadia?”

“Thanks for letting me go. I love you!”

“Oh.” I think he was taken aback. “I love you too. Have a good trip.”

“I will. Good-bye.” Back at the car, Russ held the door open waiting for me to return. I slid into the seat and he got in next to me.

“To the airport,” he said to the driver. “As fast as you can.” The driver, a silver-haired man, nodded. As the taxi backed down the driveway, Russ reached for my hand and raised it in triumph. “Isn’t this great?” His eyes shone bright. “Can you believe I pulled it off?” He let go of my hand.

“How did you do it?” The taxi driver took him at his word; we were speeding through my neighborhood. “What did you say to him?”

“I just told him the truth.”

“What truth?’

“That I didn’t want to go without you. That I needed you there.”

“Really?” I gave him a sideways look, trying to assess if he was teasing me, but every cell in my body told he was telling the truth.

“Along with a few other things.”

“Like what?”

He leaned over and whispered so that the driver wouldn’t hear. “I told him that we needed you on our team if we were going to win the academic decathlon. That we were like the superheroes in comic books, that we each had our own super powers and without your talents we would be lost.” I didn’t say anything, so he continued. “I also said that I understood why they were so overprotective of you and that I would personally guarantee your safety and never leave your side in public. That I’d die before I’d let anything happen to you.”

“You really said that?” Even though I sensed it was all true, I wanted affirmation.

Russ said, “I told him that you felt like you’d been punished for four years for one bad decision. I said that most parents would love to have you as a daughter, that you were hardworking and smart and a good friend.”

“What did he say?” I felt a lump rising in my throat. If I didn’t watch it, I’d be crying soon.

“He wanted to know how I knew you, and I said through Mallory and Jameson. And then I told him what an honor it was to be chosen for the trip, and that we could potentially win money for college, and that seemed to interest him.”

I shook my head. “Incredible.”

“He was really calm the whole time. I could tell he was thinking about it. And then finally he said, ‘I see your point,’ and he told me to wait, that he was going to let you go, but that you’d have to pack and it would take a few minutes.”

“Really.” I couldn’t make sense of this, but I guessed it didn’t really matter. The important thing was that I was going on the trip. I glanced over at the front of the taxi. We were entering the on-ramp for the expressway now. The driver merged aggressively and Russ took a quick glance at his phone.

“Are we going to make it on time?” I asked.

“Looks like it.”

We drove in silence for a few minutes. Russ stared out the window while I ruminated on the wisdom of bringing up the matter of the scars on my face. In the back of a taxi is not where I’d imagined asking, but I sensed that once we were in the group, I might not have many chances to speak to Russ privately. Now seemed like a good time to ask if he would try to heal me. I lowered my hood down to my shoulders and shook out my hair. It was necessary to show him my face, but I immediately felt exposed and vulnerable, the way I imagined it would feel to walk around in my front yard wearing only my underwear. I cleared my throat, more to get myself ready than to get his attention, but the noise jarred Russ to attention. He turned from the window to face me and we both accidentally spoke at the same time.

“Can I ask you something—”

“Before I forget—”

We both laughed. Russ said, “You go first.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t want you to forget whatever it is.”

He nodded and pulled something out of his pocket. “It’s this.” Between his fingertips he held a blue booklet. He urged it into my hands and I took it. It was a passport. “It’s yours, the one the Praetorian Guard made up for you. Lucky thing Mr. Specter brought it along. He showed it to me at the airport and that was when I got the idea to come back for you. I hailed a taxi, and well, you know the rest.”

I opened it up to see my photo—a head and shoulder shot of me in all my scarred glory. I winced at the sight. I tried never to look at myself in bright light and here I was, completely exposed, with my crackled skin and messed-up eyelid prominently displayed. A monster. I knew I had never posed for this photo. How did they get it?

Russ anticipated my question. He leaned in close. “It was done by a team that specializes in forging documents. They took your student photo from when you lived in Illinois, and then aged you.” He hesitated for an instant before plunging ahead. “They apparently used your hospital records to find out how to show your injury.”

“Oh.” To take my mind off my hideousness, I looked at the rest of the passport. They kept my first name, but changed the rest. I was now Nadia Josephine Barlow. It sounded like a family name from the Wild West. The Barlow gang. The rest of the Barlow family would be bank robbers and cattle thieves. I’d be the sister who got burned when a kerosene lamp exploded. While my brothers and cousins were out causing mayhem, I’d stay hidden at home doing housework and slopping the hogs. Nadia Josephine Barlow. That was my new identity. At least I got to keep Nadia.

“What was the thing you were going to say?” Russ asked.

I sat up straight, suddenly cheered at the thought of finally getting to ask. “It’s about my face.” I’d practiced what I’d say to him so many times that it all tumbled out in hurried whispers—how the scars had improved the last time he’d touched my face and how I thought he could do it again if he tried. “So would you?” I asked. “Try it again, I mean?” I looked up at him, searching his face for a reaction. I sensed reluctance on his part that surprised me. Why wouldn’t he want to help? It couldn’t be that he was afraid to try. Anyone who came to my house to convince my parents to let me go on this trip couldn’t be afraid of much.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I’d like to, Nadia, I really would. It’s just—” he gestured to the passport in my hand. “If I heal your scars you won’t match the photo anymore.”

I hadn’t thought of that. How closely did people look at your passport anyway? “Would anyone even notice?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Best not to chance it. We don’t want to attract attention,” he said. “Keeping a low profile is essential, they say. A matter of life and death.”

Disappointment welled up inside me. “But couldn’t we explain it by saying I got my face fixed since the photo was taken? Lots of people change their appearance all the time. They color their hair, gain weight, lose weight…”

Russ shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to put you at risk.”

I blinked back tears and jerked the hood up over my head. My world view narrowed once again.