Faery Worlds - Six Complete Novels (61 page)

“What's wrong?” Mitch asked. “Were you going to drop a number two?”

Jason felt his face turn red. Why did Mitch have to say something like that right in front of Erin?

“He was!” Dred said. “Look at him blush.”

“I wasn't!” Jason said.

“Yeah, right,” Mitch said. “Just hold it, man.”

“I'm...” Jason realized he couldn't think of a single thing to say that would make this conversation less humiliating. He wished he could escape into a hole in the earth somewhere, and maybe never come back.

He was saved by an even worse turn of events. A red Mitsubishi Spyder pulled into the driveway with its top down. This was Zach Wagner, a senior over at the Catholic high school, who was best known for modeling in the “Plaidwear” section of the Fleet Farm catalog since he was thirteen. He had flawless skin, a haircut that probably cost a hundred dollars, and dark blue eyes. Erin's boyfriend.

Zach stood up inside his car and drummed his hands on the top of the windshield. He pushed his sunglasses on top of his forehead. “Let's go, Erin! Those orphans aren't going to entertain themselves.”

“What's up, Zach?” Mitch waved, falling into suck-up mode at the sight of Chippewa's most famous male model.

“Yo, Mick! Dred! New guitar guy!” Zach gave a mocking little salute. “Sorry to take your singer away, but we've got a busy night of important stuff.”

“You're leaving already?” Dred asked Erin.

“I have to. We're going to a benefit for Stuffed Animals for Orphans, over in Minneapolis. Zach says everyone else in the Minneapolis acting community is helping out.” Erin gathered up her purse.

“He’s not an actor,” Jason said. “He's a male model.”

“You can't go now,” Dred said. “We have the audition next week.”

“Erin! Yo! Orphans! Stuffed animals!” Zach shouted.

“I'm coming!” Erin grabbed her backpack.

“You guys want us to play at the benefit?” Mitch shouted to Zach. “Cause we could do that. We can just pack it up into Dred's van and follow you to the Cities.”

“Um...thanks anyway, Mick!” Zach said, with a wink and a thumbs up. “Stuffed Animals for Orphans appreciates your support. In fact, if you guys want to make a donation, I'll pass it along. There are lots of orphans out there who don't have stuffed animals.”

“Oh, that's a good idea,” Erin said. “Does anybody want to donate?”

Mitch grumbled something under his breath as he took out his wallet and gave Erin a couple of dollars. Dred donated a five-dollar bill from her money clip.

Erin smiled at Jason as she walked toward him, holding out her hand.

Jason searched all his pockets. He came up with twelve cents.

“Sorry, I don't have more on me,” Jason said sheepishly. That's me, he thought, no money and no car.

“That's okay. Thanks.” Erin gave him a quick half of a hug. “I'll be back here for rehearsal tomorrow.”

Jason watched her climb into the car with Zach, kiss him, and drop into the passenger seat. He felt a little despair as they pulled out of the driveway and drove away.

“You know, I like that guy,” Mitch said.

Jason nodded. Everybody liked Zach, of course. Perfect Zach.

Chapter Two

Jason sat at the dinner table, where his father read the newspaper, and his six-year-old sister Katie was sculpting what looked like a hippopotamus out of her mashed potatoes.

“George, stop reading at the table,” Jason's mom said as she placed a platter of bratwurst and sauerkraut on the table. “Katie, stop playing with your food. Can't we have a nice family dinner here?”

Jason helped himself to a brat and spooned mustard onto his plate.

“What's wrong with you, Jason?” his mom asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You look so sad.”

“I'm okay.” Jason shrugged and poked listlessly at the bratwurst. On the inside, he was beating himself up for not showing Erin the song, for being stupid enough to actually put her name on it, and for letting Mitch embarrass him in front of her. The song was still folded in his pocket, unseen by anyone.

“You know—George, would you
please
stop reading that paper?—we talked about you at the Lutheran Ladies meeting yesterday.”

“Me or Dad?” Jason asked.

“You, Jason. Do you know Mrs. Dullahan, over on the east end of town?”

“The witch?” Katie asked.

“Katie! She is not a witch. She's just a very lonely old woman with nobody to help her. I can't believe you would say that.”

“Everybody knows Mrs. Dullahan's a witch!” Katie said. “If you trick-or-treat at her house, she'll turn you into a toad.”

“That is not true, Katie,” Jason's mom said. “Don't say such awful things about people.”

“She is scary,” Jason said. “Kip Ericson threw a football over her wall one time, and it came back all flat and burned up.”

“Kip Ericson shouldn't be harassing old ladies,” Jason's mom said. “Anyway. Jason. She lives all alone in that big house of hers, and she's so elderly. It's obvious she's having trouble keeping up her yard.”

“Good thing most of it's hidden behind that wall,” Jason's dad commented, without looking up from the paper. “What you can see is an eyesore.”

“She can hardly be expected to do yard work at her age,” Jason's mom said.

“How old is she, anyway?” Jason asked.

“A hundred and fifty!” Katie volunteered.

“Nobody's a hundred and fifty, Katie,” Jason's mom said. “But she's very elderly, and she clearly can't do for herself. That's why I decided to volunteer my capable yet unemployed son to go and help her around the house.”

“You said what?” Jason asked, startled.

“Just little things,” his mom told him. “Mow the lawn, trim those wild shrubs, maybe do something about all that moss on her wall.”

“Those don't sound like little things,” Jason said.

“She'll turn you into a toad!” Katie said.

“Katie, enough! Jason, it would be nice if you would do a few things to help out your elders. It builds character. The poor woman's completely cut off from everyone.”

“Maybe she likes being cut off,” Jason said. “How do we even know she wants help?”

“Why wouldn't she?” his mom asked.

“Anyway, I’m busy with school.” Jason hated the idea of going to Mrs. Dullahan's house. Every kid in town learned to fear her. Terrible stories were whispered about her. Jason was old enough to know that she wasn't really a witch or anything supernatural, but he couldn't help feeling scared of her anyway.

“School didn't stop you from working at the car wash,” his dad said. “Might as well find something useful to do with yourself, now that you quit your job.”

“Dad, I told you, I only got that job so I could save up for my guitar. Now I don't need to work anymore.”

“Must be nice,” his dad said, returning his attention to the paper.

“I don't know what's gotten into you with that guitar,” his mom said. “You hardly ever practice your clarinet anymore. You'll have to work a lot harder if you want to be first chair in the school band next year.”

“I'm not too worried about that,” Jason said.

“You'd better worry about it. That Laura Wu is going to be serious competition for you,” his mom said. “I want to see you working hard.”

“I don't really like the clarinet. I like the guitar.”

“What's not to like about the clarinet?” His mom looked scandalized. “You used to love your clarinet.”

“I wouldn't say I loved it.”

“Well, I was first chair clarinet in my high school band,” his mom said. “If I can manage it, you can, too. And your father's right, we can't just let you loaf around with your friends all summer.”

“We're not loafing, we're rehearsing.”

“What you're not doing is
working
,” his dad said. “You know, at a job? If you want to come to Bill's House of Tractor with me, Bill might be able to find work for you.” Jason's dad sold farm equipment at Bill's, a large retailer in Eau Claire.

“Um...” Jason said. The idea of having his dad for his boss wasn't quite as terrifying as the thought of going to Mrs. Dullahan's house, but it was up there.

“Why don't you drop by Mrs. Dullahan's tomorrow afternoon?” his mom said. “Introduce yourself and volunteer to help out? That would be so nice.”

“She'll probably think I'm trying to scam her.”

“A nice young man like you?” his mom asked. “Besides, you'll be bringing one of Dotty Schuler's famous muffin baskets. That should settle any of her concerns.”

“I can't tomorrow,” Jason said. “We have rehearsal. There's an audition at The Patch in Minneapolis next week.”

“Oh, I don't know,” his mother said. “I don't like the idea of you going into the Cities with you friends. That's a rough area. You could get into trouble.”

“There aren't any rough areas in Minneapolis,” Jason said. “You make it sound like Las Vegas.”

“Don't smartmouth your mother,” his dad said.

“I'm not, Dad!”

“Don't yell at your father,” his mom said. “I don't want to hear any more nonsense about this. You're going to Mrs. Dullahan's tomorrow, and you're going to be pleasant and useful.”

Jason sighed and stirred his mashed potatoes.

Chapter Three

After school on Friday, Jason picked up a cellophane-wrapped, ribbon-topped muffin basket from Mrs. Schuler, who ran a small gift shop in town. He pedaled over to Mrs. Dullahan's, whose house was several streets away from his own, at the dead end of a road just outside town. It was atop a small hill, surrounded by huge old trees whose limbs gnarled together to form a dark canopy. The weeds under the trees were thick as cornstalks.

Jason rode his bike up the short length of driveway and stopped at the gate. A high brick wall, thick with moss and mold, blocked most of Mrs. Dullahan's lawn from view. He could see one wooden turret of her house beyond it, with its single narrow window shuttered tight.

The gate itself was a massive pair of wooden doors, inscribed with strange floral and geometric designs, and these were full of moss, too. The whole area around her house felt chilly, though the rest of the town was warmed nicely by the May sunlight. It was nearly summer.

A rusty metal box, with little speaker holes and a single unmarked button, was built into the brick wall by the gate. Jason felt uneasy as he pushed the button.

He stood there for a minute, waiting. Apparently, she wasn't going to answer, and that was a relief. He turned his bike around.

“Who's there?” a raspy voice clicked out from the rusty box.

“Oh!” Jason said. “Um, hi, Mrs. Dullahan. My name is Jason Becker. My mom and the Lutheran Ladies sent me over here.” The lady didn't say anything, so he added, “Yeah...They said I should help you with yard work or something.”

“Go away,” the lady's voice replied.

“Okay,” Jason said. “Should I just leave the muffin basket by the gate, or....?”

“Go away!”

“All right, sorry!” Jason started to put the muffin basket down, but then reconsidered. If the old lady didn't want it, he could bring it to band practice for everybody to eat. Maybe Erin would like that.

He pedaled to Mitch's house with the muffin basket dangling from his handlebar. Dred's van was in the driveway, and the garage door was wide open, but no music was roaring out.

“What's wrong?” Jason asked as he parked his bike just outside the garage. He set the muffin basket on the workbench. “Can't play without me?”

Mitch, Dred and Erin were in the garage, but they weren't touching their instruments. Instead, they were moving boxes aside and looking carefully at the floor, searching for something.

“I lost my necklace,” Erin said. “The gold one with the little emeralds on the pendant? Have you seen it anywhere, Jason?”

“No, sorry. You lost it here?”

“I don't know. I've been looking everywhere.” Erin's eyes were glistening like she wanted to cry, but she was holding it back. “I've searched at home, at school, at The Creamery...”

“We'll find it,” Mitch said. He looked around the base of the drum kit.

“I already checked there,” Dred said.

“I'll help.” Jason knelt and peered under the workbench on one side of the garage. He knew the necklace Erin was talking about. She wore it almost every day. It matched her green eyes. “When was the last time you saw it?”

“A couple days ago. I don't really remember.”

“We've been looking for fifteen minutes. I'm pretty sure it's not here,” Dred said.

Erin frowned and turned her face away from everyone. She crossed her arms. “Never mind. I'm sorry for wasting everybody's time. Thanks for trying.”

“I'll check out in the yard.” Jason walked outside to look over the driveway and the grass.

In the garage, Dred tapped impatiently on her drums.

“Thanks, anyway, Jason,” Erin said. “Let's just play.”

“You sure?” Jason asked. “I can keep looking.”

“Nah, it's cool.” Erin shook her head and tucked a lock of green hair behind her ear. “Forget I said anything, okay? We have to practice for the audition.”

Jason took his guitar out of the case, which he'd left in Mitch's garage the previous night. “I meant to tell you guys, I can't come tomorrow night, either. I have to babysit Katie.”

“That's two days in a row,” Mitch said. “The audition is next week, Jason. I told you when you joined, you have to take the band seriously.”

“I do take it seriously! My parents don't. I can't help it.”

“You miss practice today, you miss it again tomorrow—” Mitch said.

“I didn't miss it today, though. Mrs. Dullahan didn't want me at her house any more than I wanted to be there.” Jason held up the muffin basket. “Who wants a muffin? Erin, chocolate chip?”

“Thanks! I could use some chocolate.” Erin smiled at him, and he suddenly felt soft and warm inside.

Jason punched through the cellophane and handed the muffins out. Mitch took both raspberry muffins and stuffed them in his mouth, puffing out his cheeks like a chipmunk.

“So, no more missing practice,” Mitch said to Jason, spraying wet muffin bits as he spoke. “Got it?”