The Book of Faeyore (3 page)

          “I didn’t see you at lunch!” Logan’s face broadened in a smile. His white, toothy grin was infectious; I couldn’t help but grinned right back at him. There was something about Logan’s smile that was always so safe, so reassuring. Annie was right. Logan was cute, with his light brown hair and hazel eyes.

          “Yeah, I’ve got lunch fifth period this semester.”

          “Did you have a good day yesterday?” Logan’s face had turned red – it must be from the exertion of running, I thought.

          “Kind of weird, actually,” I said. “I got this weird package in the mail.”

          “From who?” Logan asked.

          “That’s just the thing,” I said. “I’m actually not sure. That’s what’s so weird.”

          “What was in it?”

          I opened my mouth to speak, but I stopped myself. If I told Logan what I had seen, he’d probably send me to the school nurse to get my head examined. I decided the only way to convince him was to show him directly.

          “I’ll show you after school, okay? Do you want to come over and do homework at my house?”

          Logan’s grin grew wider still. “Sure, Bree, I’d love to.”

          I spent the rest of the afternoon with my heart throbbing in my chest. What would Logan say when he saw the book? Would he still think I was crazy, then? Or would I have proof that something distinctly weird was going on?

          “Come on, Breena,” Logan said as we walked through my front door. “Out with it – spill! What’s this weird secret you’ve been keeping from me all day. What’s in the package?”

          “I’ll show you!” I said, bounding up the stairs to my room. “Come on, hurry!”

          I rushed over to the corner of my room where I had left the Faeyore book, but to my surprise, it was no longer there. I looked up in confusion.

          “What’s wrong, Breena?”

          I put out a hand to steady myself. My heart was beating faster and the blood was rushing to my head. Was I really going crazy? I could have sworn…nobody could have moved it! And I knew that neither my mother nor Annie ever came into my room without permission; surely neither of them could have moved it!

          “It’s gone,” I said in surprise. “My package.”

          “Really?” Logan shot me a wry smile. “You got me all the way up here to show me a non-existent package?”

          I looked up at Logan. His bright hazel eyes were shining with laughter – and with something more.

          “Don’t worry, Breena,” Logan was saying. “I figured it out. You don’t have to pretend…”

          “I’m not pretending…” I started, but then I stopped myself short. Why did Logan think I’d brought him up here, if it wasn’t for the package?

          “You could have just asked, you know,” said Logan shyly.

          “Asked what?”

          I turned bright red as it hit me. Logan thought I had been trying to get him to my room, alone. Like a date.

          “Uh…” I started to stutter something about a misunderstanding, but no sooner had a few syllables escaped my lips than I spied something under the bed. The package – rewrapped and as good as new.

          “Here it is!” I cried, almost too quickly. I reached out for the package, trying to remember if I had re-wrapped it. Strange, I thought – I definitely remembered leaving it unwrapped. But between the moving book and the stranger things I had seen, I wasn’t sure if I trusted my memory at all anymore.

          Now it was Logan’s turn to turn cherry red. “Oh,” he said, starting to stutter. “Of course. Yeah. The package. Here it is.”

          I looked down at the parcel in my hands, Hadn’t I unwrapped it before? But somehow I could no longer be sure of its contents – maybe I had dreamed the book, after all.

          “Shall we open it together?” I turned to Logan.

          “Yeah, sure.”

          But this time it would not tear open.

          “Let me help!” Logan bit into a corner of the packaging and tore it with his teeth, causing a small hole to appear in the package. He forced his finger into the hole and started to tear the packaging open.

          “Here, let me!”

          I opened up the box, but to my surprise, it was empty. It had felt so heavy a moment ago – suddenly, it was as light as air.

          “Empty?” Logan was saying.

          I looked closer, turning the box over in my hands. What was going on? I leaned in closer, examining the box carefully until I was staring straight into the center where patterns of light began swirling…

         
Bang
!

          Suddenly I was seeing stars. Something had hit me on the back of the head – force from what sounded like an explosion. Everything was spinning – suddenly I saw colors all around me, orange and blue, gold and silver. I fell forward on my face, trying to make the room stop spinning. My whole body was shaking – a familiar sensation, I thought vaguely. Hadn’t I felt this sometime before? As a child, perhaps….? Images flashed before my eyes – a ballroom, a library, a garden – and then quickly disappeared. Was I just dreaming, after all?

          “Bree!” Logan was grabbing my arm, pulling me roughly upwards. I opened my eyes. “Bree, are you okay?”

          “Yeah…” I answered groggily. What had happened?

          “I heard this noise – like you were startled or something – and then you just fell over onto your bed. What’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?”

          I stared blankly at Logan.

          “No, nothing happened,” I said dully. Suddenly, I was feeling very confused. “What are we doing here, Logan? Were we working on that science project?”

          “Science project?” Logan gave me a distinctive look. “You know we don’t have biology together this semester – just P.E.”

          “Um, right…” I looked away. “Sorry – my head’s just really hurting all of a sudden. I can’t think straight.”

          “What happened to the package?”

          “What package?” I looked up in confusion. I couldn’t remember anything about any package.

          Logan looked down at the floor, but it was bare. “Did you just throw it out?”

          “I guess…”

          “You don’t look so good, Bree. Do you want me to get you some water?”

          “Sure, thanks…” I turned to smile at Logan. He smiled back, and I couldn’t help but notice how pronounced his dimples had gotten. Every month that passed seemed to bring him closer to adulthood –already he was getting a bit of stubble on his chin. Annie was right, I admitted to myself. Logan was growing into a very handsome young man indeed. The thought brought color to my cheeks. Even if Logan
was
handsome, he was my best friend – and I was certainly not about to act like Clariss, chasing after every cute boy that came my way. My mother always said that twelve was too young to start dating – whatever the popular girls said – and I wasn’t even sure what “
dating
” really meant. But somehow Logan’s smile made me feel weaker, dizzier than it usually did. It had never made me embarrassed before, but today I was actually blushing.

          “I guess you were right, huh?” Logan looked pretty sheepish. “There really was a package.”

          “No,” I said, confused. “No package.”

          Logan looked up at me, a big smile brightening all his features. “Then…you just wanted to spend time with me?”

          “Yeah, must be.”
What had I said about a package?
I guess I’d forgotten now.

          “I’m glad,” said Logan. He took my hand and squeezed it. “I like spending time with you, Breena.”

          His gaze lingered upon me. There was something different about the way he looked at me – was it affection? Admiration? Something more? My head was throbbing too hard for me to even begin to think about it – all I wanted to do was lie down. I leaned back on the pillows.

          “I’ll go get you that water, okay?”

          “Okay,” I closed my eyes. The last thing I saw was Logan’s face staring at me – his face an enigma.

          “Sweet dreams, Breena,” he whispered.

         
T
he next day at school, Logan seemed to be acting a bit stranger than usual. He kept staring at me as we sat together, eating lunch, an intense expression upon his face. His dark hazel eyes were wide with worry. “You’re sure you’re okay?” Logan asked for the third time that hour. His brows furrowed with concern as he leaned over the lunch tray. He was so close that I could smell his familiar, pine-tinged smell: it was the smell of the woods, which always clung to his back. I liked the smell. It was familiar – musky. It reminded me of all the times the two of us had wandered through the woods together. I shook my head and waved away Logan’s concern.

          “You keep asking me that,” I said, confused. “What’s going on? I told you, I’m fine.”

          “Is your head feeling better yet?”

          I looked at Logan in surprise. What was wrong with my head? I thought back to last night and vaguely remembered something that felt like a headache – but surely there was nothing to worry about there. I didn’t often get sick, but it was a cold time of year, and plenty of flu-related illnesses were working their way around the class. “I guess so,” I said. “I really don’t think you have to worry…”

          “I do worry,” said Logan, taking my hand. From a nearby table I could hear Clariss’ irritated sniff – an intentionally loud sound of displeasure. I smirked silently to myself. I guess Clariss didn’t like seeing two people actually happy in each other’s company. Particularly if neither of those people were her. “You’ve been acting strange since last night, Breena. It isn’t like you. You seem…out of it. Forgetful.”

         
Forgetful?
Something seemed to flutter in the back of my mind. Hadn’t I – only just yesterday – worried that I was getting forgetful, too? About something important? But all of a sudden I couldn’t remember what. All I remembered was that Logan had come over and that I’d gotten sick.

          “I care about you, Breena.” Logan smiled and squeezed my hand. “I just want to make sure you’re not sick or anything.”

          “I promise you, Logan,” I said. “I’m not sick. Not at all.”

          Logan grinned. “Good,” he said. “In which case, I’ll race you to your house after school, OK? The loser has to make the other one dinner!”

          That afternoon, I easily beat Logan to my house. I couldn’t help but wonder, however, how hard he’d been trying to win. Logan loved to cook – he was consistently astonished at my mother’s empty pantry – and saw it as his job to teach me to make all the dishes my mother had never taught me how to make. This afternoon, apparently, we were making lasagna.

          It was nice just sitting and eating with Logan, I thought. There was something so comfortable about our time together; so friendly. I could lean into his broad shoulders as we sat together on the couch; we could talk about almost anything, wiling away the time. Yet what had happened yesterday? Something was different about the way Logan looked at me now. More protective – more possessive, even. I mentioned something about a classmate’s prowess in football absent-mindedly, and to my surprise I saw something dark flash across Logan’s eyes. Something like jealousy.

          Did Logan
like
me? I shook my head. What was I talking about? Logan and I were just friends. Best friends. There was no room for anything else – our relationship made me so happy, just the way it was.

          But I couldn’t help but wonder: did I like
him
?

          “Hey!” Logan stopped midway through a mouthful of lasagna. “What’s that?”

          I turned to look out the window, where Logan was pointing. But to my surprise I saw nothing out of the ordinary.

          “What are you talking about? What’s what?”

          “That…man…” Logan looked worried all of a sudden. He bit his lip. “The one in the bushes – dressed all in green. The short guy – really short one – with a wart on his nose.”

          I laughed. “I can’t see anything, Logan. Are you sure you’re not just seeing one of the gnomes in Mrs. Landingham’s garden?”

          “No, he’s moving!” Logan cried, his voice growing suddenly serious. “Look – can’t you see it? He’s hiding in the trees now.”

          “What?” My heart started beating fast. “Should we call the police?”

          “No – no…”

          “I don’t see anything, Logan!” I looked up at him. He really
was
acting strange lately.

          “Of course you don’t…” Logan shook his head. “You’re not…” he stopped himself from speaking.

          “I’m not what? What is it, Logan?”

          “Listen, I have to go.” Logan left half of his lasagna still on his plate. Logan
never
left food uneaten.  “Just – uh – stay in Annie’s sight, okay. And don’t open the door to any strangers. I’ve got a really weird feeling about this, Breena. Things are going to start to turn strange.”