Vampire High Sophomore Year

16



One thing I did when we got home. I showed my dad the notice.

“Hm,” he said when he’d read it. “Looks like you’re being set up, all right. You might want to get a lawyer.”

“Dad, get a grip,” I said. “You’re a lawyer, remember?”

“Somebody important really wants you out of there,” Dad said like he hadn’t heard me. “Funny how everything in life eventually comes down to real estate. It’s the damnedest thing.”

He gave me back the notice.

“So?” I said.

“So, Leach, Swindol and Twist do a lot of business with the town government,” he said. “We’re not in a good position to take this case.”

“Then how about loaning us ten thousand dollars for some Dumpsters?” I said.

“I’ll be in my den,” Dad said, and turned away from me.

“Thanks a lot, Uncle Jack,” Turk said to Dad’s back.

If Dad noticed the dirty looks he was getting from me, Turk, and Mom at dinner, he didn’t show it. And he disappeared back into his den as soon as we were done.

Turk went up to her attic and paced back and forth. We could hear her feet stamping up and down the length of the house.

I looked up the numbers of all the Dumpster places in New Sodom and left messages for them to call me the next day. When I was done, I had a message.

Justin had called.

“Need to talk to you,” he said when I called back.

“Talk,” I said.

“Been thinking about that thing you’re doing out in Crossfield,” he said. “How’s that going?”

“Getting done,” I said. “But we’ve run into trouble.”

And I told him about the Dumpsters.

“But we’ve still got a shot,” I said. “Turk’s selling her car to Gregor, and with that money we should be able to afford enough of them to get the job done on time.”

I made it sound as good as I could. Who knew? Maybe he was calling because he’d decided to help.

That was not the reason.

“Mm-hm,” he said when I was done. “Listen, Cody. I’ve got something to tell you. If you go ahead with this thing, if you turn that old mill into your arts center or anything else, I just don’t see how I can go on being friends with you.”

“What?” I said. I was sure we had a bad connection.

“I mean it, Cody,” Justin said. “You know what that place was.”

I didn’t say anything for a long time. Then I said, “Yeah. But I also know what it could be.”

“No good,” Justin said. “It needs to be let alone.”

Again, I waited before I spoke.

“How’s that going to help?” I finally said.

“Nothing’s going to help,” Justin said. “That’s just the way it is.”

“Justin, this isn’t about forgetting what happened out there,” I said. “It’s about going forward. Together.”

I was dizzy. The idea of losing Justin was so far out there it didn’t seem real. But I knew I hadn’t convinced him.

“Cody. One last time. Please quit,” Justin said.

“I can’t,” I blurted out. “Mercy Warrener wouldn’t like it.”

“Huh?” Justin said. “Mercy Warrener, my ancestor?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “She wanted a place where everybody in New Sodom could come together and do things. She didn’t call it an arts center. But that was her dream.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to get him interested in Mercy Warrener and bring him over to my side. I wanted to tell him about the journal. But a soft voice in my head whispered, Don’t.

“I can’t tell you, exactly,” I said.

Now it was Justin who was silent.

“There’s an old story in the family about her,” he said finally. “She used to say things about how much fun it could be … if things were like you say.”

“Score,” I thought. Jenti take their ancestors very seriously.

“But she sure couldn’t have meant to do it in Crossfield,” Justin finally said.

“No,” I said. “Crossfield’s just where it’s happening.”

My phone went dead.

I thought about calling him back. I thought about calling Ileana and telling her everything we’d said. But what good would that do?

My phone rang. And it was Ileana.

“Justin called me, Cody,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“He is very upset.”

“He’s not the only one,” I said.

“Cody, I am calling to ask you also. Please give up this idea. For me,” Ileana whispered. “I have never asked you for anything, but I am asking you now. Please give up your wonderful idea and let Crossfield be what it is.”

“What it is, is ugly and useless,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “But there are some things even you cannot change.”

I felt sick. I felt scared. It was hard to breathe. I must have known what was coming next.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I have to push this thing as hard as I can.”

“But why?”

“Because … because you don’t know what you can change unless you try,” I said.

“Cody, if you do not do this thing for me, I do not want to see you again. No, that is not true. I do want to see you. But I will not.”

I couldn’t answer at first. When I thought I had control of my voice, I said, “I’ve got a couple of your books. I’ll give them back to you at school.”

I waited for an answer, but there wasn’t one. Just dead air. Then, click.

I sat on my bed for a long, long time. And I cycled through more feelings than I usually had in a month. A couple of times, I almost picked up the phone and called Ileana back. All I had to do was agree to drop my stupid idea and everything could go back to the way it was.

Except I couldn’t. Not without giving up on Cody Elliot. For the first time, I realized exactly why I was getting myself neck-deep in a swamp full of alligators. Yes, it was for Mercy Warrener, and it was for Ileana. And it might even have been for Turk. But it was definitely because I thought it was the right thing to do. And if I was wrong, I had to find that out for myself.

Life without Ileana and Justin would be one long winter day. A late, cold, gray one, covered with dirty snow. But it was the choice I had made, and I had to live with it.

I went upstairs and scratched on Turk’s trapdoor with both hands. When she came to answer it, I said, “I’ve got to get out of here. Let’s go someplace.”

“Might as well use my wheels while I’ve got ’em,” she said. “Where do you want to go?”

“Away,” I said.

“Dang, Cuz, you sound like you mean it,” Turk said. “Let’s go.”

“Where are you going?” Mom asked as we went out the door.

“Some place Cody told me about,” Turk said.

“When will you be back?” Mom asked.

“Yes,” Turk said.

“Don’t stay out late,” Mom said.

Turk’s cramped little car grumbled awake and pulled away from the curb. I wanted to be able to do this—to turn a key and drive away from things.

We didn’t talk. Turk headed west, the fastest way out of town. When we had left New Sodom behind, she turned onto a side road heading north. A sign said SQUIBNOCKET.

“I’ve always wanted to see a Squibnocket, haven’t you?” Turk said.

“Not much,” I said.

The road dipped and twisted through a range of round green hills that got higher as we went north. A strong wind was blowing the clouds south like galloping horses. Or maybe flying jenti. I wondered if Gregor was up there.

“When Mom backstabs me, or gets married or something, I always take off,” Turk said. “I drive around till I can stand to go back. Or until I run out of gas money. Doesn’t solve anything, but it’s better than nothing.”

I didn’t have anything to say. I just stayed hunched over in the uncomfortable seat.

“Sometimes I just drive around screaming,” Turk said. “I scream until my voice is totally shot. Windows up, windows down. Doesn’t matter. When you’re screaming, people leave you alone.”

“Must be nice,” I said.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me a damn thing,” Turk said. “I don’t care that much anyway. But if you want to spill your guts about it, go ahead.”

“I don’t,” I said. Then I did.

When I was all spilled out, Turk said, “Know how you feel. I had a friend once. Sucks.”

I didn’t know if she meant it sucked to lose a friend, or to have one in the first place.

“Know what I did when she backstabbed me?” Turk went on.

“Let me guess,” I said. “Did an art project about it with baling wire and old refrigerator parts, and sold if for ten thousand dollars.”

“Learned how to drive,” Turk said.

We were coming into Squibnocket now. It was one of those towns that haven’t changed much in the last few hundred years. A covered bridge led into it, and the biggest building was a stone church with a bell tower.

Turk headed in to the church parking lot. A sign by the driveway said, YOU ARE WELCOME TO OUR PARKING LOT AND TO OUR CHURCH. ST. BIDDULPH’S EPISCOPAL CHURCH.

“I played water polo against these guys,” I said.

“Spare me the jock talk,” Turk said, and parked the car.

She opened the door and walked around to my side of the car.

“Get out,” she said.

“Why?” I said.

Turk shook her head.

“Why did I get all the brains in the family?” she said. “I’m teaching you to drive, Cuz.”

Turk was being nice to me. Amazing. But I wasn’t in the mood to be amazed. I just sat there.

“Why?” I said.

“Because the way you’re feeling right now is the way I feel most of the time,” Turk said. “It’s nice to have company. Even yours.”

I got out and slid in behind the wheel.

When Turk was beside me, she said, “You know gas from clutch?”

I nodded. That was one of the things about driving I already knew.

“Then show me,” she said.

I turned the key. The noisy little engine roared behind us.

“Let the clutch out sloooowly,” Turk said.

I did, but not slowly enough. There was a loud bang-thump, and the car stopped.

I swore.

“No problem,” Turk said. “Do it again.”

Ten or twenty tries and I was beginning to get the hang of it. And no matter how many times I killed that engine, Turk never lost her cool or said anything sarcastic.

“Okay,” she said after I had managed to start and stop the car several times in a row without any mistakes. “That is reverse gear. Put us in it.”

I did, and after three tries I got it right. The car began to move backward. Because I was doing it. Slowly, slowly. I didn’t want to have any more nasty moments involving the clutch.

I did, and we were facing in a whole new direction.

“Now it starts to get interesting,” Turk said. “That is first gear. Put us into first gear and drive us forward. Forward is the opposite of the way we have been going. Turn the wheel so the pointy end of the car goes that way.”

I snickered. If Turk was starting to get razor-tongued again, I must be doing all right.

I ground, bashed, and lurched through the three forward gears, over and over, trying to figure out where the point was where you eased into the next one. Around and around that parking lot for more than an hour.

It didn’t change anything, but it gave me something else to think about. I had to pay attention to that engine, those pedals, that gearshift. Oh, and the steering wheel. The steering wheel was very important.

Turk kept telling me to do this, try that, change what I was doing to something else, but always in her calm, low voice. She had a good voice, really. I’d never noticed it before.

By the end of the lesson, I could go from a cold stop to third gear without jerking, killing the engine, or making the transmission fall out. Driving around the parking lot at twenty-five or thirty miles an hour felt like a NASCAR rally to me. And really, it was the same thing. Just a lot slower.

“Well, Cuz, I think you’ve got it,” Turk said. “Too bad I have to give up my wheels tomorrow. With a little more practice, you could be a real menace to navigation.”

“Thanks, Turk,” I said.

“Whatever,” she said. “Let me take over now.”

We drove back to New Sodom through a night that was so sad and so beautiful I wanted to cry. And the weird thing was, Turk had been right. Nothing had changed. I still had to go back to Vlad knowing that Ileana and Justin wouldn’t talk to me. But right now, driving with Turk beside me, I was in a place where it didn’t matter quite as much. Maybe something had changed a little after all.