“You’re not sleeping in here again,” Glory growled, knowing he intended to claim Patrice’s vacant bed. She had heard that Randy and Danny had come home from opportunity school earlier in the day. The twins had dropped off their junk up in their bedroom and then promptly left to hang out with some friends. They returned while she was in the shower, and by the time she was out, they were in bed. Brandon and George shared the bedroom down the hall with them. The twins were total slobs, so she could hardly blame Brandon for not wanting to sleep in such squalor, but why should she have to suffer because of it?
Looking up, she saw Brandon unzipping his jacket. His arms were swirled with tattoos. His goal in life was to ink his entire body. A guy had to have goals, but that? Puh-leez.
He ignored her glare, tossed his jacket over the bedpost, and dropped a magazine onto the bed. Glory glanced over at it. Jason Belway, the famous pop star, was on the cover sporting six-pack abs, a steamy grin, and a barely dressed woman on each arm. The title said he was one of the top ten wealthiest entertainers in the world.
Must be nice, she thought. I wonder what it would be like to be his girlfriend? But if beauty attracts money, and money beauty—fat chance that will ever happen. Last year, Jason had come under suspicion when his manager’s body washed up onto a riverbank. All of that had blown over now and Jason was as popular as ever.
She reached for the magazine, but Brandon snatched it away.
Her nose wrinkled at the smell of smoke wafting around Brandon.
“Wrap it up, Chubs,” Brandon said. “It’s late and I’m going to bed.”
She hated that name. Glory acknowledged she could stand to lose a few pounds. I have a pretty face though—right? She tried to reassure herself. People tell me that sometimes.
She pulled out her rock collector’s guide from under the bed, setting it on the floor beside her.
“I said wrap it up.”
“In a sec,” she replied, returning the boxes to alphabetical order beneath her bed. “I have to look something up.”
Still in his street clothes, he crawled into the bed, thumbing through the magazine. Meanwhile, Glory sat on the floor in the aisle between the two beds, flipping through the pages of her rock collector’s guide.
After several minutes, Glory asked casually, “Hey, Brandon. How big is the biggest dog in the world?”
“How the heck would I know?”
“Have you ever heard of a dog being as big as…say...a pick-up truck?”
“Nah. No dog’s that big.”
Glory thought for a moment.
“Are there any bears around here?”
“There used to be, but not for hundreds of years.”
“Oh. Uh, what about white ones?”
“White what?”
“White bears. Are there any around these parts?”
Brandon rolled onto his side and faced her. “Don’t be stupid. White bears only live where it’s cold all year round.”
Brandon yawned, making no attempt to cover his mouth. “What’s the sudden interest in giant dogs and white bears?”
“Promise you won’t tell?” she knew better than to trust Brandon, but she was dying to tell someone.
“Just get on with it.”
“Well, earlier when I was at Queen’s Mesa... ”
“Glory,” Brandon’s voice softened with something bordering on concern, “you gotta quit going up there. You’re gonna get lost in there, or killed, and nobody will ever find you.”
“Since when do you care?”
“I don’t,” Brandon snapped. “And you better not be spray painting in there again. If you get caught defacing a cave, the Eco-police will fine Dad and throw you into juvie.”
“Do you want to hear the story or not?”
“Go.”
“I found a new cavern today and guess what I saw.”
“A white dog?”
“How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
“But this was no ordinary dog, Brandon, if it was a dog at all. I think it was none other than the red-eyed devil of Queen’s Mesa himself.” She paused for effect.
“You mean the Hoogula?” Brandon raised an incredulous eyebrow.
“A definite possibility.” She gave a solemn nod. “It was almost exactly like Grandpa described. Huge fiery eyes as big as your face, thorns all over its body, skin like powdered rock. And it had fangs like swords.” Brandon made no reply, but his brows rose higher, and he put down the magazine. “It chased me from its lair—all the way to the top of Queen’s Mesa! I was this close to being a devil-doggy snack.” She held her thumb and index finger an inch apart. “Good thing luck was with me and I escaped. But barely.”
Reliving the chase made her shudder. “So, what do you think?”
Brandon sat up and was silent a minute, then threw a pillow at her.
“Go to bed, dork.”
Glory felt like a balloon with a leak. She had shared her most amazing day with her brother only to be ridiculed. She hadn’t even gotten to the best part—the beautiful mysterious rock! Served him right—Brandon wasn’t worthy to hear about IT anyway.
He leaned out of bed and flipped off the lamp.
“Turn that back on, Brandon. I’m not done reading.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Jerk.”
She took her flashlight from the top of the bookshelf and continued to look through her book. Some stones shared certain characteristics with her indigo find but none seemed to match.
“Wrap it up, Glory.”
“This is my room and I’m not hurting anything.”
“I can hear the pages flipping and that annoys me.”
“Your face annoys me.”
In the blink of an eye, Brandon wrestled her to the floor, yanking away the flashlight, grabbing the book out of her hands.
“Give it back, you butthead!”
“No way. The flashlight’s mine anyway. I gave it to you, and now I’m taking it back.”
“That’s SO wrong! You can’t give somebody something and then take it back!”
“You’re right,” Brandon said with an evil gleam in his eye. “But, I can do this.” He walked over to the window. The bedroom was on the second story, but that didn’t stop him from tossing her book and flashlight into the night.
“Maybe your devil-dog will fetch them for you.”
Glory wanted to punch her obnoxious brother in the face. Instead, she sat down in front of the closet to put on her hikers, muttering the whole time.
“Where you going?” Brandon wanted to know as he crawled into bed.
“Where do you think, moron, to get my stuff.”
“It’ll still be there in the morning.”
“It’s supposed to rain tonight.”
“Be quiet when you come back in or I’ll pound you.”
Glory scowled, put on her coat on the way out the door and tiptoed down the hallway. It was well after midnight and everyone was sleeping, including Nana and Grandpa whose heavy snoring wafted up the stairway. Randy and Danny were home, appearing as nebulous blobs of clothing on the other side of the room. Even though they made her life miserable at times, it was good to have the family whole again. She noticed George had kicked off his blanket, so she pulled it up around his ears and kissed him on the cheek. Blue eyes flickered open and he smiled.
“Gwo-wee. Song?”
“Just one,” she whispered. As usual, she made-up the lyrics as they went along.
Hush a-bye, don’t you cry,
Go to sleepy little George-eeee,
When you wake, we’ll eat cake,
And set sail through outer space-eeee.
He turned onto his side to snuggle deeper into the covers. Something about watching him contently sucking his thumb made her feel peaceful, as if for a moment the world was a good place, and everything would be okay. George had already fallen asleep. In the morning, he wouldn’t even remember she was here.
“Pleasant dreams, s
weetie.”
The tricky part would be getting past the living room where Dad was wasted on the couch. A government-sponsored show about how the struggling economy would benefit from a single one-world currency droned from the television—typical boring stuff. Every creak of the floor made Glory wince. Slowly, carefully, she opened the front door and stole outside.
Whew, now for that missing flashlight.
The drizzle seemed to absorb every bit of light, making the darkness extra intense. She slopped around the wet yard for several minutes, but no sign of the flashlight or book. The porch light would be useful about now but possibly waking Dad wasn’t worth the risk. She decided the spelunking light in the barn would be her best bet.
Upon opening the door, Glory realized that she was the last one in the barn and had left the lights on. If it wasn’t for Brandon being a bully, the mistake would have went unnoticed until Dad discovered it at the break of dawn. Burning bulbs burned money and that was a crime in the Alley household.
On the plus side, at least the barn was toasty dry, but even with the lights on the place was scary at night. The unseen feet of nocturnal animals made scratching sounds as they scurried through the straw. The mice were cute, but coons and foxes could be menacing if caught unaware. She’d learned the hard way they were especially fond of the loft, so she took a rake down from a peg, just in case, thinking how she’d much rather be in bed…but thanks to my loser brother I’m out here in the middle of the night, looking for a friggin’ flashlight in order to find a friggin’ flashlight.
Rake in hand; she headed for the wooden ladder, which leaned against the loft. An attached rail made for a sturdy handhold. The loft was rarely used these days. She had turned it into her own private retreat for doing girl things like sorting through rocks, reading sci-fi books and playing with her Glam Dolls—a pastime she should have outgrown long ago.
Unfortunately, Brandon had recently discovered the spot and had taken up smoking and looking at dirty magazines in her sanctuary. Glory began to climb the ladder. Halfway up, something rustled in the loft.
“No luck,” a gravelly voice sounded from above. “There’s nothing but useless Tullahn junk up here.”
A bosomy Glam Doll with a tiny waist, fashion boots, and a sequined mini skirt, fell out of the loft, almost hitting Glory on the way down. Tiffany? She noted in alarm. A second later another doll dropped. There goes Ashley—what the heck!
Suddenly, an old face peered down out of the loft’s opening, but it wasn’t Grandpa. The head was too big and the skin way too pink. He wore a gray fedora with a white feather on the side. Saggy cheeks spilled over his fleshy worm-like whiskers, while he glowered at her with black bottle-cap eyes.
The man seemed as surprised to see Glory, as she was to see him.
Another voice below cried out, “This is the soul! This is the soul!”
Glory looked down and nearly lost her balance. The intruder on the floor below looked exactly like the man in the loft, except in place of the feather in his hat there was a curved bone. He was squat and short, but his fingers were thick as sausage links. The short old guy stood at the bottom of the ladder peering up at Glory.
“Oh, crap!” she cried out. “Midget bums at 12 and 6 o’clock!”
Remembering what they did to the squirrels, her throat dried in an instant.
The bum below stepped up onto the first rung and grabbed one of her ankles. She yelped and kicked him away, then climbed up more rungs. She couldn’t go up and she couldn’t go down. But she had the rake. Glory swung it up and down to keep them at bay. “Come any closer ya varmit-munching-bums and I’ll stick ya!”
The man at the bottom grabbed hold of the ladder and shook it. Good thing it was bolted to a crossbeam. CRACK! One bolt snapped. The wood around the second bolt began to splinter.
“Dad!” Glory wrapped an arm around a rung of the ladder and screamed. “Anybody! Help!”
“Tullahn,” the man in the loft hissed. Glory’s head jerked up and she swung the rake in his direction.
The stranger held up his palm and blew. A cloud of sparkly blue dust flew at Glory’s face. The grinning old bum began to blur. Sleep became Glory’s only desire. Fight it. So woozy...
She lost her grip and started to fall.
Chapter 6
Glory woke at the foot of the ladder groggy and disoriented. Morning sun poured through the diamond-shaped window way up under the pitch of the roof. Stiff all over, head stuffed with cotton, she stretched and groaned. “How’d I fall asleep in the barn?” Oh, yeah, looking for the flashlight.
A cold draft swept over her feet, wriggling her toes, she looked down to see they were bare. The sound of the barn doors creaking open made her jump. A large burly figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. Dad.
He snapped a leather belt between his hands. “Glory Alley!” he hollered. “Where are you?”
Familiar with that tone, and the belt, she knew big trouble was coming. Her insides felt like a rope going taut.
Dad stopped a couple of paces away to stand over her. Still in his long underwear, wearing a holey white T-shirt covered by a half-buttoned flannel shirt, he asked, “What in the blazes are ya doing, girl?”
“I-I dunno.” Glory replied confused, too afraid to look him in the eye.
“I-I dunno?” he mocked. “Don’t lie to me! You forgot to latch the chicken coop—didn’t you?”
“Uh, no. I’m sure I locked it.”
“Get up.”
She rolled to her feet and tried to increase the amount of space between her and the belt.
“You remembered you forgot to secure the latch. Then came out here to cover your hide, thinking I wouldn’t figure it out.”
He held up a wad of white and brown chicken feathers.
Glory’s breath caught in her chest.
“An animal got into the coop last night and tore up three chickens!” He threw the downy fuzz at Glory in disgust.
“I’m positive I locked it...”
“Latches don’t unlock themselves,” Dad growled. Snapping the belt again, he raised it over her head.
“Wait, Dad! Wait!” the words tumbled out as her mind cleared. “Two bums were in the barn last night. I’m sure they had something to do with it.”
“Bums?”
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, and when I came out here to get a flashlight, ‘cause Brandon threw my stuff out the window, they cornered me on the ladder and I fought them off with the rake. Then the one in the loft threw blue dust at me, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up with a giant headache, flat-out on my back right here.”
She pointed to the floorboards beneath the ladder. “Honest.”
“Are you sure they weren’t government spies?”
“Huh?”
Dad lowered the belt and motioned with a finger. “Come here.”
Glory wanted to run, but knew better than to disobey. Dad smelled like bourbon mixed with sour milk. He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to turn around while he rubbed his fingers through her hair. She prayed he’d find brains oozing out or at least a grapefruit-sized lump.
“You’re fine.” His cold gaze sent chills down her spine.
“But the bums stole my shoes!” Glory pointed at her feet in a last ditch effort to convince him she was the victim, not the perpetrator.
“What would two bums want with a pair of kid’s shoes?”
“Maybe they thought they’d fit.”
“Midget bums took your shoes, eh?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“They weren’t exactly midgets, but they were short for guys, so I just call ‘em that.”
Dad’s nostrils flared. “Enough of this nonsense,” he said through clenched teeth. “Now, I’m not going to ask you again. Where are your shoes?”
“I-I told you, the bums took them.”
“First you forget to latch the gate.” Dad’s eyes were narrow slits. “Then you make up a story about bums
in the barn to cover for the fact you lost your shoes.”
Glory bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling.
“Then there’s the matter of Queen’s Mesa.”
“Brandon,” she whispered under her breath. “That dirty snitch.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times, if not a thousand, you’re not allowed to go there. If you were a boy, I’d let my fist knock some sense into you. Since you’re not, the belt will have to do.”
“No, Dad, no, please no.” She tried to back away, holding up her hands as panic welled up inside her gut.
“It’s too late for that, Glory. I’ll break you of your dim-witted ways one way or another.”
“Take off your coat.” he ordered. “And grab your knees.”
Glory relunctantly obeyed, moving slowly like someone heading to the hangman’s noose. This is gonna hurt like crazy. She closed her eyes tightly, bracing for what was coming.
“One for the chickens.” The sound of the belt made a sharp crack as it made contact with her rump. Pain like a dozen wasp stings followed. “Two for the shoes.” Glory’s teeth clenched. All the muscles in her body tensed. Her right knee buckled. “Three for lying to me.” Dad missed his mark, catching her across the back instead. “And four for going to the mesa.”
Her skin felt like it had been bathed in fire. Oh, how she hated him at that moment, and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of tears, but jagged breaths racked her body, betraying her efforts.
“Cry real nice for Daddy,” he said.
His nasty comment gave her more incentive to discipline her tear ducts. She willed them to close and washed her emotions with imaginary numbing cream. I will not cry. I will not cry. If only Mom was alive, things would be different. Life was unfair and there was little she could do about it.
Glory Alley and the Star Riders (The Glory Alley Series) Page 5