Slipping on a robe, I raced down the stairs barefoot and hurried to reach the door to silence the noise. One glance to my right confirmed my suspicions that Uncle Marvin was indeed still asleep in the chair in the living room.
I pulled open the door just a crack, stopping the person mid-knock.
The last person I expected to see was Frankie Bolero.
Chapter 4
“What are you doing here?” I demanded as Frankie’s hand recoiled from his knocking. He was wearing jeans with a black button-down shirt. He looked too perfectly put together for so early in the morning.
“I’m here to get my phone back,” he replied, flashing me a smile that tried to endear me toward him.
It only kinda, sorta worked.
“What makes you think I have it?”
“Because I lost it on purpose. I wanted to know where you lived and I tracked it here using an app.” He sounded proud about it, like he hadn’t just stalked me.
“Well I don’t have it,” I lied. I told you I was a liar. About anything and everything. The truth rarely had a place in my life to be spoken.
“Yeah, you do. See?” He held up an electronic notebook with a map on the screen. There was a blinking dot over my address in the street. It was as red as a siren, blaring that it was here, come and get me.
“It’s wrong.” I shrugged, like I couldn’t care less in the world about his app and the blinking dot.
“Can I come in?”
“No, why would you do that?”
“Because I’ve come all this way and you have my phone,” Frankie said, taking a step closer to the doorway. Mrs. Justice was already out in her garden, only paying half of her attention to her roses, the rest to me.
I stepped back from the door. “Fine. But you’re not staying and you have to whisper.”
Seeing Frankie in my house was wrong. Every voice in my head screamed to get rid of him. They just didn’t tell me how to get rid of him, otherwise I would have done it immediately.
His eyes roamed everywhere, looking at everything in the shabby excuse for a house. There was only one painting on the wall and it was of a sad, lonely horse. It had been here when I moved in and I couldn’t imagine Uncle Marvin purchasing artwork so I always assumed it was here when he bought the place.
I didn’t want him seeing my world. This house wasn’t much but it was my piece of the world, the shelf I had been placed on when I was lost. I didn’t need Frankie judging me for our lack of money or comfort.
My weight shifted from foot to foot as I stood awkwardly. “You should go. I told you to leave me alone. If you lost your phone then that’s your fault. I can’t help you.”
Frankie dragged his gaze back to me. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable but I thought we could be friends. If you give me my phone back, I’ll leave.”
“I told you, I don’t have it.”
“I really need it.”
“Then you shouldn’t have lost it,” I pointed out. People were always so regretful when they lost something. If they cared about something so much in the first place they never would have lost it. I had no sympathy for them.
“I didn’t lose it, I left it there for you to find,” Frankie replied.
“Then aren’t you silly.”
“Please? It’s the only way my parents can contact me.”
“You don’t live with them?”
“Yeah, I do. But they always need me to work or pick up my sisters, or groceries. Whatever. Please, can I have my phone back?”
“I’ve already said a million times that I don’t have it.” I crossed my arms over my chest, reminding myself that I was still only wearing a thin nightgown over my even thinner pajamas. Uncle Marvin was stirring. I held the door open for him. “You need to leave. Now.”
His beautiful blue eyes pleaded silently with me. They reached down into my soul and spoke directly to it. But there was nothing I could do. I had never returned a lost thing to its original owner.
It was impossible.
Unheard of.
Against the rules.
My rules existed for a reason and he wanted me to break every single one of them. I couldn’t do it, no matter how much I wanted to change those sad eyes. If I flaunted the rules, then what would happen? Something bad, surely.
“Go, please,” I said.
Frankie looked from me toward the door and then back again. His feet started moving. I watched him leave without saying another word. The silence hung between us like a wet blanket, smothering everything in its path.
When he was at the bottom of the steps, I closed the door. Uncle Marvin was starting to waken so I quickly ran upstairs and got ready for the day. Properly this time, not having to hurry to get to the door.
I wasn’t quick enough to escape the house before Uncle Marvin barked at me to make him breakfast. “Eggs or cereal?” I asked politely, gritting my teeth together so I didn’t say something I would instantly regret.
“Eggs, idiot.”
Of course.
I flew around the kitchen, throwing everything into the pan and then willing it to cook faster. The eggs were only slightly runny when I served them.
There was no time to stop for Mrs. Justice outside. I threw a ‘good morning’ her way without slowing down. I was going to be late–again. Just once it would have been nice to show up to class on time. It would probably astound the teacher more than myself.
When my butt hit the seat in Geography class eight minutes after the bell rang, Mr. Brisinger only had a stern expression for me. “Miss Gabrielle, so nice of you to join us.” His forced smile was filled with crooked teeth.
“Sorry, sir.”
“Don’t get too comfortable, you’re off to the principal’s office.”
“But I—”
“Now, Miss Gabrielle.” He pointed to the door, just in case I had trouble finding it. I dropped my books back into my backpack and stood, feeling every pair of eyes in the room on me.
As I walked down the empty corridor I wondered what the punishment was for dozens of tardy notes. Surely they wouldn’t expel me just for being late occasionally? Or repeatedly? Constantly? The thought of having Principal Moore calling Uncle Marvin was phenomenally terrifying.
Uncle Marvin would kill me.
He told me once his only rule was “Stay out of trouble and out of my way”. I was good at the latter and only slightly better at the former. I really did try to stay out of trouble but surely being late wasn’t considered trouble?
I was stuffed.
I was going to have to come up with some good lies to tell Moore. I’d already used one about my house burning down, my Uncle Marvin needing to be taken to the hospital, my cat swallowing a coin, and nearly every other excuse I could think of. This one was going to have to be good.
When I reached reception, Moore’s assistant was typing like her life depended on it. She didn’t look up when I stood in front of her. “Um, excuse me. Mr. Brisinger told me to see Principal Moore.”
She flicked her eyes to me once, making sure I was a person and not a recorded voice before replying. “Go on in, he’s waiting for you.”
Mr. Brisinger worked fast if he’d already told Moore to expect me. They probably started doing that after the time I was ordered to the Principal’s office and then disappeared for half a day. I started Recycle Club early that day.
I knocked on the door before hearing the terse “Come in” boom from inside. It was going to take some fast talking to get out of the office alive.
It was best to go on the offensive. “I’m really sorry for being late, Mr. Moore. My Uncle Marvin choked on his breakfast sausage and I had to call an ambulance. They said he was lucky to be alive and he told me to come to school even though he was shaken and—”
“Sit down, Miss Gabrielle,” Moore barked, completely interrupting my apology.
It was then that I noticed we weren’t alone. The girl from the corridor the day before was sitting down already. Her arms were cro
ssed over her chest and her cheeks were pink. She purposefully wasn’t looking at me.
I somehow doubted this was about being late.
It was worse.
I sat down and waited, trying to look younger than my sixteen years and more innocent than I was. In other words, I tried to lie without using words.
Moore got down to the point quickly. “Miss Clark came to me this morning with an allegation against you. She said you stole her textbook. What do you say to that?”
“I honestly have no idea what she is talking about,” I replied, thinking back to the Science textbook sitting on my shelves. It was perched on the second one from the top, on the far left hand side. It had a few others to keep it company.
“She’s lying!” the girl erupted. “I saw her take it.”
“Where did this happen?” Moore, ever the master detective. Was he going to fingerprint the scene of the crime too? The thought almost made me smile.
“Out in the courtyard. I had it out at lunchtime, revising for our quiz and then it was gone.”
“And you’re sure it was Miss Gabrielle?”
“Jennie said she saw her.”
“Was there anyone else around to witness this?”
“That new kid, Frankie. He was there, he saw the whole thing. I know he did.” The girl sat back in her chair, as if to say ‘case closed’.
Moore pressed a button on his phone. “Callie, please asked Francis Bolero to come to my office immediately.”
Damn it.
Frankie was going to be a problem.
I knew he was going to cause me trouble sooner or later. He’d seen too much, been too interested in what I was doing. And now he was going to ruin everything.
As we waited, Moore’s forehead scrunched into lines of wrinkles. “Are you sure there is nothing further you want to say about this Miss Gabrielle? Something you’d like to confess before Mr. Bolero gets here?”
“Nope. I told you, I have no idea what she is talking about,” I replied. He didn’t scare me, even though he kind of did. I’d talked myself out of a lot of situations before, this one was no different. I just needed to think of an excuse to counteract whatever Frankie was going to say.
I could tell them I found the book and handed it in to the library.
I could tell them I wasn’t even in the courtyard that day.
I could tell them the girl had stolen my textbook and I was only taking it back.
There had to be a way out of the situation. The last thing I wanted to do was admit my guilt. They would make me pay for the textbook and I didn’t have that kind of money. God knew Uncle Marvin would never give it to me.
Frankie knocked on the door before he peered inside. There were no more chairs left so he had to stand at the side of the room, awkwardly looking down at us.
“Mr. Bolero,” Moore started. “Miss Clarke here has misplaced her textbook. She said you witnessed Miss Gabrielle taking her textbook from the courtyard two days ago. Do you remember seeing this?”
“It was lunchtime,” the girl added helpfully.
I held my breath while I waited for Frankie to speak. I needed to know what he was going to say so I could develop the appropriate lie to counteract it. It would probably be best to cast doubt on his witnessing ability, considering he was new and didn’t know any of us. How could he recognize one new face out of many?
Yeah, that was going to be the way to play it.
Dispute everything Frankie said.
“Mr. Bolero?” Moore prompted.
Frankie’s hands were stuffed into his pockets as his eyes flicked between the three of us. If he was anything like me, he was wondering who best to make happy that would lead to the most favorable outcome for himself.
Eventually, he took his hands out of his pockets and let them fall limply at his sides. “I don’t remember Em being in the courtyard that lunchtime, sorry.”
I clamped my teeth together so my mouth didn’t drop open. I wasn’t the only liar in the room.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bolero. You may go.” Moore waited until Frankie slipped out before focusing his attention back to us again. “Miss Gabrielle, I highly suspect you did take Miss Clarke’s book, but there is no way to prove it.”
“But she did take it,” the girl protested. She clearly didn’t know when to give up. “Jennie saw her. She has it.”
“That may be the case, Miss Clarke, but there is no evidence to prove it.” Moore pinned me with his gaze. “I suggest, Miss Gabrielle, that you do the right thing and return the textbook. Remember, guilty consciences are heavy burdens to bear.”
I shrugged.
Whatever.
My conscience was clear. The guilty one was the girl who shouldn’t have lost things in the first place. Maybe this whole episode would teach her a lesson or two about cherishing the things she had.
“You should both return to class,” Moore said, finishing the matter. I’d been in his office so many times the room was comfortable and familiar to me. It probably had the direct opposite effect on every other one of his visitors.
The girl was too indignant to leave yet but I didn’t have such a concern. I left Moore’s office and hurried to return to class. If I ran, I might just be able to incur Mr. Brisinger’s wrath just a little more.
I didn’t see the guy standing just outside the reception area, almost running straight into him. My gaze travelled upwards to see it was Frankie.
“I get the feeling Mr. Moore doesn’t like you,” he said.
He was blocking the way. “No kidding. Please move, I have to get to class.”
“There’s a pop quiz in Geography this morning.”
All the bad feelings curdled in my stomach. Trying to complete one of Mr. Brisinger’s pop quizzes in half the time was like a medieval torture session. They counted toward the final grade too, just to make them even better.
“I guess it’s official, this day can’t get any worse,” I muttered.
Frankie smiled, one of his cheeks dimpling inwards, making him look even more adorable than I’d ever seen him. “I take it you’re not a fan of pop quizzes either?”
“I’d just prefer all the time allotted to complete them.”
“Me too.”
As I watching him, Frankie stepped backwards two steps. He leaned over casually and pulled the fire alarm with that same smile on his face.
Instantly, the alarm bellowed out its siren. It wailed repeatedly as students started to filter out from classrooms in neat lines. They marched toward the exits.
Frankie grabbed my wrist and pulled me along until we slotted into one of the lines. We fell into step, filing out like all the rest of the students, blending in effortlessly.
We found Mr. Brisinger’s group and joined in with the rest of our class for rollcall. He read off our names, ticking them from a sheet attached to his clipboard. When he came to my name, he faltered but said it anyway. “Emmeline Gabrielle.”
“Present,” I called out, my teeth grinding together. I really wished people wouldn’t call me that. My name was Em. It wasn’t hard to remember, even shorter to say.
The smile never left Frankie’s lips as he stood next to me. It was frustrating that I couldn’t work him out. He had every chance to snitch on me in Principal Moore’s office. He could have made sure I had detention every day for the rest of my life, maybe even gotten me expelled.
But he didn’t.
He lied for me and I didn’t know why. Frankie didn’t know anything about me except that I stole things. He had trapped me on two occasions now, losing things on purpose just to watch me take them.
Why?
The question echoed around my head like a basketball. Bouncing off the edges of my skull in perpetual motion. It was a question that would never get an answer, not until I figured out what his game was.
Maybe he was lost too?
The unanswerable question joined the first one, beating a path thro
ugh my brain to be heard above all the others. It was silly, really, thinking Frankie was anything like me. For all I knew he was perfectly found, his life one that a storybook would be envious of.
Somehow, I got the feeling Frankie would be a riddle that I would never be able to solve.
Chapter 5
Going into the attic had seemed like such a good idea. I couldn’t wait to climb the rickety and highly unsafe pull-down ladder into the space.
I was searching for lost space.
Space Uncle Marvin had forgotten about that I could use for my lost treasures. I needed to expand operations from my bedroom and the attic had seemed like the obvious choice.
As I walked through tangled cobwebs and tried not to imagine the spiders that called them home, it didn’t seem like as much of a good idea.
The place smelled like the past. If the past smelled like mildew, smoke, and dust, that is. My nose tingled as I stepped over a box and tried to ignore the rat poop littering the floor.
If I could look past the current state of the room, it could definitely work for my collection. There were plenty of walls to attach shelves and Uncle Marvin never came up here–I doubted whether he could even fit through the manhole anymore.
I could fix it up.
It could hold all my lost things.
There were a few stored boxes that I would need to clear, along with all the cobwebs, dust, and poop but that would only be a matter of some heavy duty cleaning. Cleaning was something I was good at.
The flashlight shone on to a box in the corner. It appeared to be newer than the others, it only had a one inch thick dust coating while the others had two. I kneeled next to it and carefully pulled open the lid, half expecting a giant rat to jump out and bite me.
It only had a few things in it.
Things that belonged to my dad.
I pulled out the item on top–a picture of my father holding me when I was only a baby. I knew it was me because of the small birthmark on my arm. It was a red patch in the shape of Africa if you squinted hard enough.
Sometimes I panicked that I had forgotten what my dad looked like. I would try really hard to imagine him in detail. From his dark hair to the lilt of his lips. I would concentrate so hard my head would start to hurt from the effort.
The Keeper of Lost Things Page 3