Spirit’s Key (14 page)

Dr. Wade looks relieved. “That would be a load off my mind. It really would.”

“Where's my dad? Can I see him?”

Neither of them answers me.

“The kids will be disappointed,” Mrs. Dialfield says. “I was going to make sorbet for the last day of school, and lessons will be missed, but you're right—it's not worth the risk. If you'll allow Spirit to go on home and cool off, I'll allow the school to close early for summer vacation.”

Dr. Wade turns to me. “I'm looking after your father, but if you're not careful, I'll have to look after you, too. Those baldies should not be pets, young lady. They never came anywhere near our homes until you took one in.” His eyes flash. “You are not to call them near to us. Do you understand?”

“No, I don't understand. What's wrong with my dad?”

“He's sick, and I can't have him making anyone else sick. You go straight to the Hatterasks' house and put some ice on your forehead, you hear?” Dr. Wade warns. “And if you don't cool off, if you have any symptoms, any sickness at all, you call me right away.”

“Go on, Spirit,” Mrs. Dialfield says. “Hurry now. Do as the doctor says.”

There's something about her urgent look that makes me drop my questions and get out of there as fast as I can.

 

20

H
ELPING
M
RS
. B
ORSE

I race inside the Hatterasks' house. Mrs. Hatterask meets me at the door. “What happened? The kids told me the doctor—”

“I got away. I think Mrs. Dialfield struck some kind of deal to close the school to get the doctor to free me.”

Mrs. Hatterask locks the door and helps me take my sweater off. “You're the luckiest little girl.” She sits me by the fan. “Mrs. Dialfield helped, did she?”

I nod.

“Didn't like that woman much when she first came here. Determined to die. Thought she knew everything. Finally, I convinced her to drink our tea. Looks like it's made her well and given her some good sense, too.” She sits back with a satisfied smile.

“Dr. Wade could sure use some tea. He was really furious with me,” I say. I think of the old ladies who glared at me in the fish market, and Eder, who wants to send me to an orphanage. “Maybe the whole town is mad at me.”

“Maybe you're mad back,” she says.

“Me mad?”

“Sometimes anger's tricky. It can hide.”

“Hide where?”

“Oh, it can hide under the veil of sadness or confusion. It can hide behind our eyes or in our hearts.”

A telephone rings.

“Excuse me,” Mrs. Hatterask says.

While she's gone I think about anger and whether mine is hiding. I decide maybe it is. I'm angry Dad is gone, and angry no one likes the baldies. Maybe I'm also angry at death.

Mrs. Hatterask returns with the phone. She hands it to me. “It's for you.”

“Spirit?” Mrs. Borse's voice doesn't have its usual gumption. She sounds shaky and breathless. “Can you come over?”

“Are you okay?”

“Hurry, child. I might not be for long,” Mrs. Borse says. “The bird could stop circling.”

Even though I don't know what she's talking about, I jump up to leave.

“Where are you going?” Mrs. Hatterask asks.

“I have to help Mrs. Borse. She's all alone now that my dad's not here. Dad gets her groceries from the market, and I'm not sure she has anyone else to ask for help.”

“You shouldn't go out there,” Mrs. Hatterask says. “I'll go.”

“Mrs. Borse is particular about who comes over. I better do it.”

Mrs. Hatterask doesn't look convinced. “What if you faint or get sick again?”

“I feel fine. I was hot from wearing my sweater on an eighty-degree day in June.” I hold up my bandaged arm.

Mrs. Hatterask nods, still a little uncertain. “The weather
is
merciless.”

“Maybe I'll just tuck my arm inside my T-shirt.” I make it look like I have only one arm.

She laughs. “You won't look less conspicuous like that.”

I pull my arm back out of my shirt. “I'll run superfast so no one can see I have a bandage.”

“If you get caught with that bite, there won't be much we can do to keep you here. No deal Mrs. Dialfield or anyone else can make will save you, not with everyone so riled up. People are going to do what they can to protect their own.”

“But I have to go check on Mrs. Borse.”

“If you want to risk it, I can respect that. But you come straight back.”

I tear out the door, not even stopping to say hello to Nector and his siblings coming up the street.

“Where're you going? You feeling better?” Nector yells. “They canceled school!”

But I keep running. When I get to Mrs. Borse's, she opens the door right off.

“You let me in on the first knock because I've gotten good at slipping in fast?” I ask.

“I suppose,” she says slowly.

“So these devil spirits you're afraid will get in … are fat?”

Her fur hat tilts to the side, a confused expression on her big round face. “What's that?”

“These devil spirits I assume you think might get inside the house, are they large?” I ask, louder this time and into her good ear. Maybe if I had a mental picture of these evil spirits, I could understand why everyone's so afraid. “Are they too big to fit through the slit of a door?”

“I'll be. Fat spirits. I never heard of such a thing,” she says. “You should be careful, child. The devil is always on the lookout for sassy children to snatch.”

“Lots of people seem to want to snatch me lately.” I shake my head. “But I doubt they can catch me.”

Mrs. Borse lets out a laugh as loud as a baldie howl. When she's finished, she says, “You want to know why I let you in right away?”

“Yes,” I say.

“For one thing, you don't have that devil dog with you anymore.”

I do have Sky with me. He's waiting on her porch. Mrs. Borse just can't see him. But she's right, it isn't the same, as much as I wish it were.

“For another, I trust you.” She smiles.

“I used to think you were weird, too,” I say, because that's essentially what she's saying, that she thought I was weird. Or scary. Or both. “I used to hide in the honeysuckle bushes to watch you grab your packages.”

She laughs again. “I know you did, child. You think I couldn't see you and that baldie? Honeysuckles don't have tails.”

True enough.

She has a pair of binoculars around her neck.

“What're those for?” I ask.

She jumps. “Yes! You've distracted me from why I called. Come see.” She leads me to her bedroom, to the same window the eagle flew through. I notice the window is fixed now, and so is the ceiling where the bullet hit. She must have let Mr. Hatterask inside. I wonder if he made himself flat and fast. Outside, the eagle circles the sky.

“Are you worried she's going to fly in?” I ask.

“No, child. She's learned her lesson on that. We have an understanding now. She's come to warn me.”

“Warn you? Of what?”

“This.” She hands me the binoculars. “Look there, next to that clump of trees.”

I put the binoculars to my eyes, and there's a baldie lying on the ground not moving. A fifth. I lower the binoculars, my heart heavy. How many more will die? What if the whole island of baldies is wiped out?

“Will you burn it for me?” Mrs. Borse asks.

“We can do it together.”

“If you won't be reasonable, I'll burn him from here.” Mrs. Borse fetches a book of matches from the top drawer of her bureau and pinches off a stick. She strikes it and picks up a lace doily the lamp used to sit on. She holds the cloth above the flame, and I realize she plans to light it and take aim through the window.

I grab her arm. “Stop! You'll set the whole island on fire.” I remember my vision and Dad's. Is this how the fires start?

She lowers her hand. “Better than letting the devil inside. I don't know how long the bird will circle. If she leaves, I'm doomed. There will be nothing between me and that devil spirit.”

And
I'm
the one who's unreasonable? But of course I agree to burn the baldie for her.

“Thank you, child. It's only you who can help us. You have a way with those beasts. I wouldn't throw you to the baldies if I thought otherwise. I'm much too fond of you for that.” She grabs me into a fierce hug.

Mrs. Borse is crazier than wasps in a sandstorm, but I hug her back.

 

21

S
MELLING
THE
F
UTURE

Home is only a few steps away, so I stop there to rummage through our supplies. I took Mrs. Borse's matches, but I didn't ask her for gloves or a pallet. I have to safely burn the baldie and prevent a fire-filled future.

But as soon as I walk through the door, I realize all Dad's boxes are missing. Even if I couldn't see it with my own eyes, I can smell that someone else has been here. Someone who smells a sticky kind of sweet.

I search the house, but every box is gone. We've been cleaned out. I stick my head in the freezer to get rid of the rotten, sweaty feeling that overwhelms me. Who would have stolen Dad's supplies?

We keep a spare key under a rock by the door. Everyone keeps keys hidden on their porch. Mrs. Hatterask obviously figured it out when she picked up my clothes for me. If you steal something from someone on this island, unless you bury it, everyone will know soon enough. And if you have Mrs. Borse as a neighbor, you can find out right away.

Mrs. Borse is the best security camera money can't buy. I run back to her house. “Mrs. Borse!” I scream through the door.

She doesn't hesitate to make a sliver for me to slip through. “Our stuff is gone,” I say, breathless and scared.

She nods.

“Did you see? Who took it?”

The binoculars are still around her neck. “Eder. He came last night. Made ten trips with that truck of his, I'd say. You didn't know he was comin'?”

I shake my head. Eder already has the money to buy whatever he needs. Why would he take our stuff?

“Probably hauling it over for your dad at the whale station,” Mrs. Borse muses. “Don't you think?”

“I don't know, but I'm going to find out.”

“I'm sure you will. You're a resourceful child. But first you best rid me of that devil.”

Mrs. Borse gathers the supplies I need, and I leave to burn the fifth dead baldie.

*   *   *

At the Hatterasks', Nector is trying to mess up Yasmine and Gomez's paddle rhythm by throwing the toy airplane he got from the cereal box over the ball. But Yasmine and Gomez keep to the beat. Their concentration is intense—until Gomez sees me and misses. “Why do you have to sneak up on people like that?” he demands.

I shrug, because I didn't do it on purpose.

“A moving object didn't faze you, but Spirit just standing there made you miss?” Nector asks. He seems disappointed that he wasn't the one to throw them off.

“She's creepy,” Gomez says.

“Gomez!” Yasmine yells.

“I'm sorry, but it's true.” Gomez throws down the paddle and looks at Yasmine. “She walked straight into that baldie cave without blinking an eye. You didn't see it like I did.”

“I had a reason,” I say.

They stare at me waiting to hear it, but telling them I was following a ghost dog won't make me any less creepy. So I don't say why. Instead, I raise my gloved hands, which carry Mrs. Borse's pallet, matches, and a blanket. “I have to burn a baldie or Mrs. Borse is going to set the whole island on fire throwing flames from her window.”

“Another baldie?” Nector asks.

I nod.

Nector eyes my supplies. “Do you want help?” He takes the heavy pallet from my hand.

“You can't. Remember what Mom said?” Yasmine's voice raises an anxious notch. “We have to be careful.”

“You're already a goner. Mom says there's still hope for us,” Gomez tells me.

I ignore him and look at Nector. “Do you have gloves?”

Nector nods.

“If he gets the devil's sickness, it'll be your fault,” Gomez threatens.

I don't want to respond, because he's a scared ten-year-old. But I can't leave it. When it comes to the baldies, my big mouth can't stay shut. “I don't believe they have devil spirits. I'm not the one who wants to burn the baldie. It's all the same to me.”

Gomez's eyes widen.

“Why don't you believe they have devil spirits?” Yasmine asks me.

I pause, because I can't tell her I see their spirits—even the ones who were burned instead of buried—and they seem normal to me. “I just don't,” I say.

Nector nods. “Okay. So we believe different things.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “We definitely do.”

“Then why are you going to burn it?” Nector presses.

“Because Mrs. Borse asked me to. She believes, and she's afraid. I'm helping her.”

“I'll help, too.” Nector sets down the pallet and runs inside.

Gomez frowns and Yasmine looks worried.

Nector comes back with a pair of gloves, and we leave to find the fifth baldie.

It lies in the trees behind the Fishbornes', but I don't have to navigate. Sky leads us right to it.

The baldie is crumpled and still, like the others. She's a female, and there isn't a mark on her. Sky paces around the body, sniffing. I wish he could tell me how she died. Baldies must die naturally all the time. But Mr. Fishborne was right—we never find the bodies all over town like this. It's like the dog knew she was going to die and wanted to get away from the others.

“What are you guys doing?” Tomasena asks. She and Kelvin walk over from their house. When Tomasena sees the baldie body, she screams.