Astray

by J F Rogers

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, stop gawking and come here, Fallon.”

  I peered with extreme caution into her outstretched palm.

  “Well, take it.” She shook the object clasped in her meaty fingers.

  Like a game of Operation, I snatched it and removed my hand as fast as possible as if to avoid the buzzing sound. I then backed to a more comfortable distance.

  A necklace. I sucked in my breath. The pendent seemed ancient. A heavy circle made from some type of gray stone attached to a leather cord. Seven cone shapes pointed from a circular indent in the center, giving it the shape of a star or a sun. Strange marks, like hieroglyphics, each unique, etched deep between the points.

  It had been so long since I’d received a gift I didn’t know how to respond. “What is it?”

  “Not quite sure. It belonged to your mother.”

  “My mother?” The amulet fell, the cord caught around my finger. I pulled it to safety and let out a heavy breath. My mother. I couldn’t remember the last time she was mentioned in this house.

  Fiona’s steel-blue eyes lost their sharpness for a nanosecond. “Yes.” Then with a quick shake of her head, adding more volume to her frizzy hair, she stood and brought her dishes to the sink. “Well, enough of that.”

  “No.” My mother’s ghost had been summoned. I couldn’t let it float away.

  Fiona stuck out her jaw and glared at me with dead, unblinking eyes. My stomach jumped into my throat. I had ventured into dangerous territory, but I might never have another chance to find out about my mother. I’d searched this house from top to bottom for pictures—any insight into my parents—only to be denied. I tried softening my tone. “I mean…did my mother give this to you?”

  Fiona dropped her gaze and returned to the sink. “No. She didn’t.”

  “Well, who then? You’ve been holding on to it all these years? Why’d you give it to me now?”

  Fiona placed her hands on her disproportionately large hips, lowered her head, and sighed. She remained like that, as though worn out from fighting down whatever humanity remained entombed within her otherwise heartless carcass.

  After a few eons, she faced me. “Fallon, I really didn’t know your mother well. This was given to Nathaniel after her…” She paused as if searching for the appropriate word. “…disappearance. He was instructed to hold onto it until your seventeenth birthday then give it to you. He’s not here, so I’m doing it.”

  “Someone gave it to Bumpah after my mother…? Who?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t there. He never said.”

  “But why? Why give this to me now? What for?”

  Fiona folded her arms across her chest. She leaned toward me. Her pear-shaped frame extended as her face scrunched in a scowl, forcing the peach fuzz to stick out on her upper lip.

  “I was tempted to throw the stupid thing away. I’m only doing this for Nathaniel. I promised.”

  Was she for real? I knew she hated me, but this was a whole new level of heartlessness. To want to toss the one thing connecting me to my mother…that was cold. My eyebrow twitched as I tried to think how to respond. I opened my mouth, but words escaped me. Her unblinking eyes bulged in my direction. Words I’d been dying to say for years flew from my mouth. “You’re not the only one who lost your family, ya know. I miss Bumpah too. It’s not fair. I can’t even remember my parents. And I’m…I’m…” I knew what I wanted to say but couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  “You’re what?”

  Her nasty tone loosed my tongue. “I’m stuck with you!”

  “Don’t try to bait me. Nathaniel would still be here if it weren’t for you. He was too old to be chasing after a rambunctious kid. As for my son—let me just say—no parent should outlive her child. You miss people you never knew. I lost the only people I ever loved. And where’s your mother? I don’t know. Her casket is empty next to my son’s. Is that fair?” She paused as though I might actually reply. “For all I know, she killed him.”

  Fiona’s chest heaved as she gulped for air, her face red. Blotchy. I stood frozen. Though her words stung, they didn’t send me crying as they once had. Instead, they fueled my anger. I wanted nothing more than to smack her across the face. I fought to keep my clenched fists by my side. “What about me? I’m your granddaughter, remember? You didn’t lose everyone.”

  Fiona shoved her hands into her pockets. “Oh for Pete’s sake, I don’t have time for this nonsense. I have more important things to attend to. Not all of us sleep until noon.” She trudged out of the kitchen, leaving dirty dishes in the sink.

  Blown off again. Fiona didn’t have anything to do but send herself postcards from her dead husband, add to her ridiculous plate collection, and resent being stuck with me.

  I dropped my cup into the sink, chipping it, and adding to the pile.

  Several fantasies flashed across my mind. Most involved Fiona spinning and falling after a swift blow from a frying pan. Hurtful words I wished I’d said resonated in my mind. I cursed myself for allowing her to suck me in. I should know better by now.

  My mind returned to the amulet. My first tangible connection to my mother. I placed it around my neck. It fell heavy against my breastbone. Warmth radiated from the spot, comforting me as if a missing piece of my heart had returned. I held it up to study the markings once more. As my fingers traced the cone shapes, feeling the rough surface, it sparked, like static electricity in the dark. I jumped. The necklace slipped from my fingers and thudded against my chest. My heart skittered. I yanked the stone off and dropped it on the counter.

  Chapter Two

  ◊◊◊

  I TILTED MY HEAD and stared at the amulet. No freaky sparks of electricity. No glowing like something from a sci-fi movie. I touched the face as though testing a curling iron. It wasn’t hot. Certain it would do something the moment I blinked, I stared at it until my vision doubled and my eyes watered. Still nothing. It must’ve been my imagination.

  Magical or not, I couldn’t wait to show this to Stacy. I tucked the necklace under my T-shirt, gave it a quick pat, and rushed from the house. The amulet thumped against my chest as I ran down the path through the woods. When I arrived at the crossroads, I hesitated. Through the graveyard or the long way, as usual? Impatience prodded me forward, chafing against my resistance.

  But the graveyard? Not today. As I walked, my mind flitted, thoughts chasing each other: Why had my mother left me the necklace? What would Stacy say? And how could I pry more information from Fiona. I envisioned tying her to a chair, shining a bright light in her eyes, and forcing answers out of her.

  The path came to an end at the road across from Stacy’s house. I crossed the cracked, frost-heaved road to the white cape with navy-blue shutters. Trimmed bushes and Mrs. Pierce’s pristine flowerbeds framed their lawn, cut in Mr. Pierce’s professional diagonal pattern. I followed the driveway to the brick path up the steps to the breezeway.

  Stacy opened the door. “Hey! Happy Birthday!” Her crooked smile lit her freckled face.

  I couldn’t help but smile in return. It took all my self-control not to show her my amulet. I had to fight the rising laughter, or she’d suspect something. Then I’d be forced to tell her and spoil the fun.

  The scent of whatever Mrs. Pierce had baked that morning wafted my way. Cinnamon, apples, and baked dough. My stomach growled. Mrs. Pierce was the best baker in the county. No evidence of her goods remained but the smell. The kitchen was tidy, as usual.

  I slipped off my shoes, then followed Stacy through the clean yet comfortably lived in kitchen and living room. My feet transitioned from cold, hard tile to soft wall-to-wall carpeting. Family photos lined the mantle and filled the walls. I could spend hours lounging in this room, soaking up its comfort.

  We continued past to the stairs. Stacy flung open her door and flopped on her bed. I shut the door behind us and settled into the purple moon chair.

  “So where’s the family off to?” I asked.


  “Matty had soccer practice.” Stacy picked up a magazine and flipped through the pages. “Where’s Fiona? Off sending herself another post card?” Only Stacy could ask that question without a trace of sarcasm.

  “Probably.” Heat flared in my chest at the mention of Fiona’s name. I exhaled. “You know, it was sweet of Bumpah to send them when he was alive, but the woman has got to move on. It’s been ten years, for Pete’s sake.” I grimaced. I’d unintentionally used one of Fiona’s favorite sayings. “Pathetic.”

  Stacy frowned, gently laid the magazine down, and walked over to me. She placed the back of her hand on my forehead.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You sounded concerned about Fiona. I just wanted to make sure you don’t have a fever.” She giggled. Her nose wrinkled, merging her freckles into a blob. Before I had a chance to reply, her eyes dipped down, zeroing in on the necklace. “What’s that?”

  “Huh? Oh, this.” How could I have forgotten? “Fiona handed it to me on her way out the door. She said it was my mother’s…”

  “Shut up!” Stacy pushed my shoulder with such force I almost tipped over in the chair. “It was your mother’s? And Fiona actually gave it to you?” She grabbed the amulet, and I lurched forward before she took my head off. “Why did you wait for me to notice it, loser?”

  Before I could say anything, she gasped. “Check it out. Did you see this?” She shoved it in my face, too close to see. “It’s glowing.”

  “What?” I yanked it away and pushed my glasses in place so I could focus. One of the cone shapes pointing from the center was ablaze.

  Stacy seized the amulet once more. “It’s like a compass or something. It changes when you move it.” She held it so I could see. Sure enough, as she turned the amulet, the cone aiming toward the door illuminated. What in the world?

  “Let’s test it out. What if it wants you to go somewhere?”

  “Stacy, that’s stupid. It’s a stone. How could it want me to go anywhere?”

  “Are you kidding me? It’s glowing.” She enunciated the word as though I was mentally challenged. “Aren’t you the least bit curious? It belonged to your mother. You know, the one who disappeared mysteriously.” She spoke the last part slowly, again, as if giving my feeble mind time to process. “And your rotten grandmother, who never gives you the time of day, suddenly decides to hand it over. Why?”

  I didn’t know the answer. I shrugged.

  “Well, fine then. I’ll test it without you.”

  I moved back, clutching the amulet. “No, you will not!”

  “Come on, Fallon. What do you have to lose? Do you have anything better to do today? Seriously.” After two seconds of silence, she grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. “That’s what I thought.”

  I allowed her to drag me in the arrow’s direction and out the bedroom door. Once in the hall, we stopped to consult the compass again. The arrow pointing toward the stairs lit. We sucked in our breath in unison and faced each other. Stacy’s eyes bulged, and her mouth hung open in a rare moment of speechlessness.

  “See?” Her voice returned, and she danced with excitement. “It does want us to go somewhere.” She bounced down the stairs like a three-year-old, squealing with delight.

  “Normal compasses don’t work that way. They point north. They don’t care about walls.” Stacy disappeared around the corner, oblivious to my insight. How would it know about the wall? How would it know to show the direction, literally, step-by-step, like a GPS?

  By the time I caught up to Stacy, she was already out of the house. We continued to follow the blazing arrows.

  “Hey, Stace. You mind letting me carry my gift.”

  “Hmmm?” She stopped. “Oh. Sure.” She thrust it into my hand.

  The amulet guided us toward my house, then at the fork, steered us to the path leading into the graveyard. I hesitated.

  It took Stacy several steps to realize I wasn’t with her anymore. She stopped, placed her hands on her hips, and tilted her head with dramatic flair. “Oh, c’mon, Fallon, how old are you now?”

  “Hey. I actually considered coming this way to your house today.”

  “Wow, you actually considered it. You must’ve been in a hurry. Or are you getting to be a big girl?” Her head dipped from side-to-side as she spoke the words big and girl in the most annoying, condescending tone she could summon.

  I raised my hand to her face, waved it back and forth as though smacking her, and laughed. I deserved her teasing. But this wasn’t the boogeyman under my bed. I didn’t think we’d be attacked by some strange creature lurking about graveyards awaiting prey. I wasn’t superstitious either. It was the gravestones, marking the final resting place of their inhabitants—Bumpah, my parents—reminding me of death. So inevitable. My short life had been unjustly plagued with it.

  The wide path may have been a crude road at one time, though no ruts remained to prove it. Only dirt, roots, rocks, and random patches of weeds. For the most part, the trees were sparse enough to let light filter through.

  To avoid further taunting, I followed Stacy at a crawl. She turned. Her body drooped, and her eyes rolled as she waited for me to catch up every few feet. I stalled reaching the creepy part where the path narrowed, but the inevitable occurred. I stopped under the ancient oak trees. Their jagged branches twisted thick and closed in at their peak as if purposefully blocking out the sun to make it eerier. The hairs on my arms stood up like meerkats on the lookout for danger.

  To the right was the strange rock formation. I couldn’t see it, but I knew its dwelling place. When we were six, we dubbed it the Black Rock. Not imaginative, but we were kids, and it was a dark stone in gloomy woods. I later learned it was a megalith. This one consisted of two perpendicular rocks with another balancing on top, forming a house-like structure—not a natural phenomenon. Stacy and I had so much fun here. The Black Rock had served as anything from a house, a castle, or a jail, to a sacrificial altar. Not anymore. Not since Bumpah died.

  “Come on, Fal.” Stacy grabbed my shirtsleeve and pulled me into the woods, toward the rocks. The glowing stopped when we reached the megalith. A dead end. I touched the plain stone arrows, turned it over, shook it. Nothing. It was as dull as when Fiona handed it to me—plain stone etchings. “It’s dead.”

  “What?” Stacy asked. “Let me see it.”

  When I removed the amulet, Stacy took it with a bit more force than necessary, mumbling all the while. This time, she shook it, flipped it over, and shook it again with more vigor before lifting it above her head, waving it back and forth.

  “What are you looking for, a signal? This isn’t a cell phone, ya loon.”

  After a few minutes of attempting numerous locations, she gave up.

  “Fine.” Her arm flopped dramatically as she handed it back to me. “We’ll just have to try it out a—Oh, man!” She smacked herself upside the head and headed back the way we’d come.

  “What?” I caught up and tried to read her face. “Is something wrong?”

  “Mom’s gonna kill me. She told me not to leave the house before finishing my chores.”

  “I take it you didn’t finish.”

  “No. I—” She watched me as I reached up and placed the amulet back over my head. Her eyes widened.

  “Fal, I thought you were going to stop that!” She pointed to the fresh cut peeking out of my sleeve.

  Here we go again. What could I say? Stacy didn’t understand. She couldn’t possibly. She lived in an intact family in a nice home. Photos of happy moments filled her house and her heart. People cared about her. She would always belong to them no matter what she did. To her, the world held possibility. To me, it promised more of the ugliness I’d already experienced and had no control over.

  I avoided her gaze.

  She grabbed my shoulders. “Fallon, you’re my friend. I love you. What can I do to help?”

  Nobody could help someone like me. Cutting was t
he answer I could find. If I was going to be in pain anyway, I might as well feel something different. And I might as well have some control over it. I dared a quick glance at her face. Her eyes glistened with tears. I hated myself for putting them there. I cast my gaze downward.

  “Come to church with us,” she pleaded for the millionth time.

  I’d placated her by attending a couple of times in the past, but I couldn’t handle all the churchgoers. All those eyes, staring…judging. I shook my head.

  “I pray for you every day, Fallon.”

  “I believe it.” And I did. Stacy prayed for everything from help removing a splinter to ending world hunger.

  She sighed. “Listen, I’m serious. You have to stop. I know I promised you I wouldn’t tell my parents. But why should I keep my promise if you can’t do the same?”

  “I will, okay?” Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. But perhaps someday I would.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  We walked the rest of the way in silence.

  Stacy’s mother opened the front door. “Stacy Ellen Pierce! I distinctly told you not to leave this house until your room was picked up. Did you do any of your chores, young lady?”

  Stacy rolled her eyes and ran across the lawn.

  Not missing my cue, I waved and walked toward my house, leaving Stacy to her chores and her mom. As much as Stacy complained about her mom, they loved each other. I envied her. It was far better to have parents who pushed you, who cared enough to bother, than not.

  I looked down at the amulet. It was ablaze.

  Chapter Three

  ◊◊◊

  MY STOMACH GROWLED, READY for dinner. It had gotten late. Not that it mattered. Other than food, I had nothing to rush back for. Why had I taken off? If I’d come into the house with Stacy, the Pierces might’ve invited me to supper. They often did, particularly in the summer when school was out. Then again, Mrs. Pierce was pretty mad. She scared me when she got angry. If only Stacy hadn’t been such a slacker.

  A wall of gray clouds tumbled in, darkening the sky. It seemed fitting, like the storm within me. How I dreaded going home, eating whatever I could scavenge because Fiona wouldn’t bother preparing a meal for me anymore. She’d had enough of that when I turned ten. One of these days, I’m liable to turn into a ramen noodle, I eat so many.