Magic, Mystery & Zombies: YA starter set

by Elle Klass

  Our lives settled into a slow pace. Before I became a kitchen wizard we became regulars at the diner, and they offered Einstein a legitimate job as a dish washer and fill-in cook. We were a real family and in love with each other, always showering each other with affection. The touch of his lips on mine sent shivers throughout my body and I loved the way his hands felt caressing my skin. In turn I couldn’t stop touching him, rubbing my hand across his facial hair stubble, combing and styling his long, lush, thick blond channels of hair. My heart swelled for him so much I thought it might burst.

  Discussions of our lives before knowing each other were taboo. The most I told him was the tidbit the day we met at the warehouse and then the night in Crazy Man Shaw’s woods. I picked up on enough tidbits of information to comprehend there was a lot more to Einstein’s story. In the past he lived a privileged life. However, our pasts didn’t matter. The present and new memories we created are what counted.

  Copy- catters

  With each passing day I felt more and more “normal” and the atrocities of my past faded. At fifteen years of age my life became enjoyable and relaxed.

  An older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Turner lived across the courtyard from us. He had a tall, thin build with a crown of graying hair on his head while Mrs. Turner contrasted with her round figure, short height, and thinning salt and pepper hair. They lost their home and savings when he became handicapped. She worked full time cleaning homes to support them. Sometimes, I went into the courtyard and visited with him during the day. Other days we watched cooking shows together.

  Next door to us lived James a middle-aged man, average looking with a bald patch on top of his head framed by dark hair. His daughter, LulaBell a couple years younger than me was my height, with a head of full-bodied hair every bit as dark as her father’s. After school she came over and we worked on her homework. Sixth grade is when my school career ended. Her education fascinated me and I soaked up everything like an absorbent paper towel. In science she learned about cells and the human body. It amazed me how every part of an organism worked together, and my education on heredity confirmed my mother and I lacked a genetic connection. She learned geography and information about the cultures of other countries. Her studies became mine and our friendship blossomed.

  My vicarious learning through LulaBell’s education led to an increasing Paris curiosity. I imagined Einstein and me starting fresh and not worrying one day we’d be caught and thrown in teen jail.

  For Christmas with our neighbors and actual friends we planned a big feast. We worked out a menu, each of us bringing something different. I decided on baked ham and a cherry pie. James and LulaBell brought sweet potato pie and beer and the Turners brought baked apples and rolls. We had our celebration in the courtyard between our rooms. The mild Alabama weather made an outdoor celebration possible, and the courtyard contained plenty of tables and chairs. We ate and drank the night away. Like us our neighbors were good people with sketchy pasts.

  After dinner and a fantastic Christmas Einstein and I settled into our bed with full bellies.

  “I can’t remember eating a sweeter ham.” Einstein said rubbing his belly.

  “That was the brown sugar I drizzled on it.” I rolled onto my side to face Einstein, propping my head on my hand. His eyes shifted and met mine greeting me with love. “I’ve been thinking…” I wasn’t sure how to break the news and disrupt out quaint life. You know I keep track of the news. Our heist at the Judge’s house brought attention to our crimes. The police are searching more than ever and making connections. They haven’t released any hard evidence, but they found a couple copy-catters - two kids in Oregon, a boy and a girl. They broke into a home, stole jewelry, a baseball card collection, and brass cufflinks. A neighbor saw them running from the house and called the police. They caught the kids. Their ages and brief descriptions match Star and Peewee. They lived in a foster home during the time frame we actively thieved. In time they ran away leaving newspaper clippings behind in the home. The authorities assumed the kids admired our handy work. Well duh, right?”

  “Duh. The good ole days. I don’t miss them and don’t get crazy notions that our victims were innocent.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look around you at our neighbors. Everybody has something to hide.”

  His words drifted through my mind for a second and dissipated as a crazy copy-catter detail entered my mind. “The house had a silent alarm and the guy that owned it was an alarm specialist and rigged his house with a remarkable system. The alarm triggered the police before the neighbor’s call.”

  Einstein caressed my cheek and fondled my ear. “And you have an idea where we should go?”

  He knew me well. “Of course! How about Paris? They are known for having the best food. The city is small but populated. It’s a different country across the Atlantic. We’d be able to fit in and hide and it’s full of history and legends.”

  “Like the catacombs beneath Paris that harbors the remains of hundreds of dead people?”

  I grabbed my pillow and hit him with it. “I wasn’t thinking anything that scary but yeah!”

  He caught my pillow and hit me back then grabbed my waist and brought my body on top of his, planting a sensuous tongue filled kiss on my mouth. “Paris it is, but first we enjoy the rest of the holidays.”

  I rolled off Einstein onto my back and stared at the popcorn ceiling. “This Christmas was great wasn’t it? I’ll miss everyone especially James and LulaBell.”

  When the Past Catches Up

  We spent several months vigorously planning our escape. Our slow paced life together was taking a dramatic turn and neither of us wanted to spend the next few years in a juvenile detention center. With methodic research we developed a plan. We didn’t need passports or any form of identification. We planned to jump a train headed North up the east coast to New York, and from there steal aboard a freight ship headed to France.

  Zero hour was drawing close for Einstein and me. We said goodbye to our close neighbors and the diner owner and staff wanted to see us before we disappeared into the oblivion. After our evening eating greasy diner food with stuffed bellies we held hands and strolled to the motel. The night was warm and humidity hung thick in the air surrounding us. The street lights above glowed, halos enclosed the falling light leaving no clues that a strange new twist would send me rocketing into a different world. Within seconds our life together came to an abrupt end, screeching tires blasted our ears, and a car veered around the corner aimed at us.

  “Watch out!” Einstein pushed me and I spiraled face forward, my legs falling under me. I looked towards Einstein and screamed, “No!” The car hit him square on, throwing him several feet, and disappeared.

  On my feet I ran to Einstein and lay my head on his chest. The usual rhythm of his heart ceased. His chest didn’t rise and fall with air. Time froze and my heart dropped deep into my chest, sadness oozed through every pore inside my body. Inside I screamed; outside my body convulsed as rivers of loss and sudden fear coursed through my veins. My tragic life was finally whole and right, we were leaving, and within seconds his life destroyed! I couldn’t panic or mourn him, I had to leave. The watch I gave him our first Christmas together twinkled on his wrist, I slid it off along with the gold band on his finger. “I love you,” I whispered giving him one last kiss as tears poured from my eyes in flooding streams while my legs took hold of me. Once again I was running, a familiar friend.

  A couple blocks away, my body halted at a payphone and my fingers punched the numbers 9-1-1. My voice shook. “There has… been a hit and… run. A man… he’s… he’s dead.” My hands jammed the receiver back on its holster and I dashed to our room. My neighbor next door, James, spied me scurrying across the street, so he came over and I let him inside the room.

  James eyes shifted as he looked around the room. “Where’s Einstein?”

  I choked and buckets of tears streamed from my eyes. “He’s dead. He’s been hit I have to leav
e now.” I threw what I could into my backpack.

  He grabbed my hands. “Sit.” We sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t leave yet. I can help you by providing a passport.” I recognized he’d always been up to shady business transactions but never questioned it, which must be why he didn’t question my urgency to leave after the sudden loss of Einstein.

  Tears ran rampant over my face, and my voice quivered. “How… how long?”

  “No more than forty eight hours.” James folded me into his arms as I cried on his chest. He understood we had secrets just as he did but never asked. Now he wanted to give me a legal ticket out of this country. I stayed for two more days, grieving my beloved Einstein, and reading up on his death. The authorities didn’t know who hit him or made the mysterious the 911 call.

  After two days, true to his word, James provided me with a passport and new identity. I was eighteen year old Justine Holmes instead of sixteen year old Cleo. I took the passport, my survival bag, a blue shirt of Einstein’s that carried his scent, and boarded a plane to France. My mind retraced every precious moment I was lucky enough to share with Einstein.

  Moonlighting in Paris

  Book II

  Justine

  James and LulaBell transported me to the bus station so I could hop the bus to the airport. I thanked them and we gave each other huge hugs. I watched their truck pull away and meandered into the station.

  Between the second and third stops I had a six hour gap between busses so I explored. I found a salon within a few blocks of the station and resolved to get my hair done. The name Justine Holmes demanded class, which I had little of in my present condition. The experience was new and exhilarating. As a child my mom took household scissors when my hair grew out of control.

  The beautician had deep scarlet lopsided hair; it hung longer on the left side of her face than the right. I wanted something more conservative, so I asked for blond highlights throughout the top, and underneath kept my natural chocolate. She trimmed several inches off the back, shaping it with long layers. She then styled it and handed me a vanity mirror. I no longer looked like homely, abandoned, and poor distraught Cleo, but Justine.

  To top off my new look I bought both a pedicure and manicure. My feet and hands were in gnarly shape. I sat in a massage chair with my feet in a tub of warm bubbling water. The mechanical fingers of the chair wrenched the kinks in my back giving me both pleasure and pain. When she finished my feet she rushed me to a seat and dipped my fingers in warm water then clipped away my dead skin. I went with the more expensive gel polish, hoping it would last longer, and a French manicure. By the time she finished my toenails and fingernails were so eye-catching they looked as though they belonged to someone else. I looked in the mirror and saw a gorgeous young woman. For the first time in days, since Einstein’s death, joy overcame me.

  My physical makeover complete, I returned to the bus station and continued my journey to the airport. On the ride, I concluded my style of clothing needed a makeover too. I wore faded jeans, a T-shirt, and a heavy blue hoodie, hardly Justine glamor material. I needed dresses, skirts and fashionable sandals and boots.

  At the airport I purchased my one way ticket, which consisted of two stops - New York and Moscow, Russia - spending a grand total of thirty three hours in flight. I had nothing but time, so I shopped, buying a couple elegant outfits before boarding. The airport wasn’t any more confusing than the bus or train stations, although the security procedure was ridiculous and demeaning. I checked my bag and carried just my backpack, which I stuffed into a new, classier purse.

  I hadn’t flown in a plane and my stomach fluttered with anxiety. My mind envisioned an entire scenario: an unforeseen object crashing into us, causing a huge gap of twisted metal beneath our feet to open. It swallowed us and created a mass commotion among the passengers. People screamed and held onto seats or other objects to keep from being sucked into the oblivion and plummeting through the Earth’s thick atmosphere to their deaths. I positioned my purse between my feet after takeoff, with a strap around my ankle in case my scenario rang true. When I plummeted to my death my pack was going with me, which I know, sounds silly, but my entire life, including important memories, were inside it.

  The airline offered a meal, but it tasted disgusting, nothing like my cooking. For the price of a ticket, they should serve gourmet food. I lost my appetite. They showed a movie, but headphones cost four dollars. I took a headphone set when the man in the seat ahead of me sidetracked the flight attendant. The movie stunk, and I stuffed the headphones into the pocket sewn into the seat in front of me. Tendrils of warm fluid continued to rise and fall behind my eyes as memories of Einstein burned deep inside me.

  I refocused myself and people watched. The man across from me ordered and drank seven tiny bottles of Chardonnay. A family sat kitty corner to my seat. The two older hellions bounced in their seats and down the aisles while the younger child sat quiet. The parents tried to scold the older two children, and they grew calmer, but then acted up when an opportunity arose. I sat next to a man who slept, snoring louder than the jet engine. His head, followed by his body, continued to slump onto me. I pushed him away from me, within minutes, he slumped back on me. A stocky woman barreled herself through the aisle and disappeared into the restroom just behind my seat. When she reappeared ten minutes later, so did a putrid odor, which nearly caused me to pass out. I forced my shirt over my mouth and nose, curling my face into my knees to suck in the fresh scent of my clothing.

  Another person a couple rows in front of me kept talking on his phone and fiddling with his computer. Curious, I took a stroll to the restroom in front and attempted to sneak a quick glance. His coal eyes caught my look-see, and he closed the lid of his computer. Another passenger, his eyes shaking and bouncing, kept staring over his shoulder in my direction. I nicknamed him Mr. Dancy Eyes. My instincts or sixth sense kept me away from him. When the plane finally landed in Moscow, I was happy. I got off and stretched my legs even though I still had one more short flight.

  I walked the entire airport during my layover stretching my cramped legs. My new identity and age made it possible for me to buy alcoholic beverages. A tall, thin man with a distinct case of male pattern baldness creeping across his head sat next to me at the bar, and asked, “Is this seat taken?”

  “No.”

  “A beautiful lady like you traveling alone?”

  My sixth sense told me to lie. “Yes, I’m meeting my fiancé in France.”

  His lips curled into a thin smile. “What a coincidence. I’m headed to Paris too. We have a couple hours, would you like another?”

  “Thank you. So what takes you to France?”

  “We need to properly introduce ourselves. I’m Joe, and you are?” He took my hand and placed a kiss on it.

  “Justine. Nice to meet you, Joe.” I responded, regaining control of my hand.

  “Well, Justine, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I have business in Paris.”

  From the corner of my eye, I spotted Mr. Dancy Eyes from the plane, was it possible he was on his way to Paris too? I ignored his bouncing eyes which glared into my bare, broken hearted soul and continued my conversation with Joe accepting his drink offer. I drank slow and cautious, not wanting to get belligerent before boarding my last flight. It so happened Mr. Dancy Eyes was on my next flight too.

  A New World

  In Paris, I stepped into the fresh air and inhaled filling my lungs. Taxis and busses lined the roadways to carry people to their destinations. Without thought I boarded a bus headed towards a hotel, first checking to see if Mr. Dancy Eyes was around, I didn’t see him. The bus dropped me off in front of a posh hotel, but I snuck off, not wanting a room yet. My legs needed to move after being scrunched in an airplane seat for several hours, and my belly rumbled from hunger.

  I walked around Paris and took in the sights. The sun disappeared and evening settled upon the city. Paris was different to American cities I’d seen. The buildings and structures allud
ed they were older than time and added a mystical appeal to the city. Fewer cars littered the roads, many people walked, or rode bikes. The city was compact, opposite of American cities. I walked a few miles and stopped at a deli with outdoor seating. I opted to eat beneath the stars. Unable to read French, the waiter translated for me. My stomach betrayed my mind, I ate half the flatbread melt.

  Einstein lingered in my thoughts and his caress as we first snuggled in the warehouse together. His arms holding me tight… pushing me out of the way, then his blank stare into my water filled eyes. I stood up, tears in the corners of my eyes, and threw money at the table as if it would catch the bills.

  I needed a quiet place to gather my thoughts and collect myself. Not a cheap motel or abandoned building, but something grand like the hotel I first napped in after I left the shack. The name Justine commanded luxury beyond my wildest fantasies. Aimlessly, I ran smack into an extravagant, towering fairy tale palace hotel. Inside, glass chandeliers patched across the ceiling, and marble floors smoothed a path in front of me. Spinning in marvel, then floating in a slumber-like state I glided towards the counter.

  With a thick French accent the front desk man, his nametag read Jean, asked, “May I help you?”

  “Yes, I need a room.”

  “Do you have a reservation?”

  “A what?” I asked.

  His eyebrows turned inward. “Reservation for a room. You must have one for us to place you.”

  My mind exploded. How stupid! I didn’t understand reservations existed. I turned on my heels and walked towards the door without saying a word.

  My ego deflated while bits and pieces of life with Einstein flashed through my head. From behind me a hand reached out and cradled my hand. A young man with light brown hair and deep brown velvety eyes stood opposite me. I met his eyes and peace washed through my soul. He explained a room was available and apologized for any inconvenience from the staff. He took my bags and helped me through the check-in process, then escorted me to a room on the fourth floor.