“No one respects a liar, little girl. Being a responsible adult means you have to take responsibility for your successes and your failures.”
“If you’re an example of what it means to be an adult,” Glory sniffled under her breath, “I’d rather stay a kid.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Glory folded her arms and looked away, fighting back a new batch of tears.
“Are you ready to recant that lame-brained story about the bums?”
“I told you the truth. And I won’t take it back.”
Shielding her head, she waited to be struck. When no strike followed, she let her arms down.
“Stubborn as your mother,” Dad said, almost as if it were a compliment. He looked at the belt in his hand, then back at his daughter. Pursing his dry lips together, Dad stroked his graying chin whiskers.
“Get in the house, Glory,” he said quietly. “And I expect to see you at the breakfast table.”
Glory couldn’t believe she was off hook for talking back, but her skin stung fiercely and she was still angry. So very angry. Refusing to meet Dad’s gaze, she stomped to the house barefoot across the cold, wet grass.
Her feet tracked mud through the front hall, all the way to the kitchen where Nana stood by the stove with a plaid robe and hair curlers, big spoon in hand. All the kids were there finishing their meals, except Patrice, who was with the Miller kids down the lane.
“Gwo-wee!” George squealed, but she was in no mood to be social. She roughly brushed past him, ignoring the hurt in his eyes.
“Morning, sugar pot,” Nanna said with an inquisitive narrowing of the eyes. “You all right?”
“Fine,” Glory said through tight lips.
“Er, how ‘bout some scrambled eggs?”
She nodded with a slight sniffle.
Grandpa was sitting in his wheelchair at the end of the table. In his opinion, teeth were not necessary for eating eggs, so they sat in a cup in the windowsill above the kitchen sink. His chin moved in exaggerated motion as he slopped eggs around in his mouth. Some days Grandpa was a man in a fog, barely able to comprehend what was going on around him. Other days he was sharp as a new ax. Today the fog was heavy.
Randy and Danny were at the table, looking cocky as ever. They hadn’t seen her for three months, but they didn’t even bother to acknowledge her existence as she took a seat across from them at the table. Fat lot of good opportunity school had done them. Right now they were arguing with Brandon about what teams would make the playoffs. I was stupid to want them to come home, Glory told herself.
She sat down carefully, trying to keep pressure off her stinging back. She took in a sharp breath when the fresh welts took the weight of her body. Didn’t anyone see her suffering? Didn’t anyone care?
Nana slid a glass of milk Glory’s way and scooped a mound of yellow onto her plate. She moved the lumps of eggs with a fork, not feeling much like eating. What she wanted to do—needed to do—was run up to her room, shut the door, and cry into her pillow for a couple of hours.
“Psss,” Randy kicked her under the table. Glory glanced up to see Randy holding two orange saucers over his eyes. “Grrrr.”
“Oh, my!” Danny held up his hands, screaming like a damsel in distress. “It’s the Red-Eyed Devil of Queen’s Cavern. Whatever shall I do?”
“Hoogula!” Grandpa shouted. The unexpected sound caused everybody to jump. His faded eyes cleared for a moment. Then he spoke. “Queen’s Mesa is ordinary on the outside, enchanted within, and Wicked Wybbils come from the edge of the universe to search her winding tunnels.” Spoons and forks froze in mid-air as everyone paused to listen. “What they’re looking for, nobody knows, but don’t you dare ask ‘em.” His words electrified Glory’s senses. “The Wybbils, you see, have the magic. Get in their way and they’ll use it against you, but something far worse than Wybbils lives under the mesa.”
“The Hoogula?” Glory’s voice came out higher-pitched than she had intended.
“Indeed,” Grandpa said with a single nod. “The Hoogula’s huge red eyes can see in the dark and nothing except the sun’s rays can penetrate his spiked hide. He’s a devil from the netherworld itself, whose sole purpose is to keep the Queen’s treasure out of Tullahn hands.” Grandpa waggled a scolding finger Glory’s way. “And those foolish enough to enter the Hoogula’s lair will be caught for sure. First, he’ll poke out their eyes with a silver horn, then tickle them to death with a magic feather, and after they’re good and dead, he’ll rip out their guts, saving the bones for toothpicks.
“And if he’s still hungry, when the world is at its darkest, the Hoogula leaves the mesa to roam the world, seeking naughty children to dine on. So listen closely boys and girls, be kind to one another and obey your elders, lest the Hoogula will pounce when you least expect it.”
Grandpa must have told that tale a hundred times, but this morning it took on new depth, chilling her to the bone. A minute of absolute quiet filled the kitchen until Randy burst out laughing.
“Grandpa, you’re full of it.”
The old man looked as he was about to reply, but that familiar glazed and vacant stare had already returned, mouth dangling as if he’d lost his words. Everyone knew that meant his mind had flown elsewhere. No use trying to pick his brain for additional information. Glory licked her parched lips. Acid rose up in her throat.
“Look at Glory,” Randy addressed everyone at the table. “She’s white as a ghost. I think she bought Grandpa’s bull.”
“Red-eyed devil? More like one yellow-bellied chicken named Glory!” Danny teased. “Running out of the mesa from your own shadow.”
Randy pointed at Glory and then flapped his arms like chicken wings. “Bawk! Bawk!”
“Brandon!” Glory’s head spun around to face her betrayer. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”
Brandon shrugged as if he couldn’t care less.
Glory’s insides boiled. Grabbing a wad of lumpy eggs, she raised it over a shoulder and was about to fling it at her tormentors, when Randy hooked his ankles around the legs of her chair, then yanked. Glory’s chair tipped backwards, crashing to the floor with a bang.
The chair took the brunt of the force, but the fresh wounds on her back became agony. Without warning, the walls of the kitchen faded away, and the image of the indigo rock appeared before her, spinning in the middle of outer space. Her hand, translucent like a ghostly specter, reached out to touch it. Glory felt weightless, floating peacefully among the stars, without a care in the world. Peace radiated from the rock to the center of her being. She gazed at the shimmering globe and smiled lovingly.
“Randy, didn’t you learn anything in opportunity school?” Brandon said from some faraway place.
“That place sucks,” Danny replied. “Nobody learns anything there, except how to throw a punch when the instructors aren’t looking.”
“If you don’t learn how to act like decent human beings sometime soon,” Brandon said. “You’re going to end up some place even worse.”
“Glory?” Randy’s voice echoed from somewhere distant. “I’m sorry. You all right?”
“She’s faking,” Danny’s voice cut in. “Uh, Glory? Say something.”
There was a moment of concern as her brothers stopped eating and peered over the table anxiously awaiting a response.
The vision faded all too quickly. Lying on her back covered with eggs, Glory stared at the ceiling, hating life, thinking it odd how thoughts of the rock filled her with contentment at the same moment.
“Gwo-wee!” George ran around the table in a diaper and a stained bib. “Me kiss!” He crouched beside her to plant little kisses on her forehead. “All better?”
“A little, George. Thank you.”
“Me love Gwo-wee best!” he said, toddling away.
“Did you hear that?” Nana clapped her hands together, obviously pleased. “George made a complete sentence!”
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Nana patted the youngest Alley on the head and helped him into a chair, while everybody cheered for George.
“Faker,” Randy called down to Glory as she lay there semi-stunned.
Nana happened by, looking down at Glory through the bifocals at the end of her nose. “Did you lose something, dearie?”
“Just her dignity,” Danny replied.
“Impossible,” Randy quipped. “Can’t lose what you never had.”
Glory’s three brothers roared with laughter.
“Sprout,” Grandpa said when he noticed Glory lying on the floor in an overturned chair with food all over her. “You got egg on your face.”
Her brothers laughed themselves into a ridiculous frenzy, while Glory righted the chair.
Everybody froze when Dad barged through the back door, holding a soggy book and a green flashlight with Glory’s name written on it. Glory carefully sat down.
Dad looked directly at Brandon. “Do you mind telling me how this got in the middle of the yard?”
“It’s not mine,” Brandon answered, keeping his eyes on his plate.
“That’s not what I asked you. Glory told me you threw it out the window last night.”
Randy, Danny and Brandon all turned to Glory, giving her a look that spelled payback.
“It’s true,” said Brandon without the slightest hint of regret in his voice. “I did it, but for good reason. Glory’s been going up to the caverns again—even though you told her not to.”
“So what?” Glory joined the tattle-fest. “Brandon’s been smoking in the barn.”
Brandon feigned shock, gasping. “Glory’s a liar!”
“Am not!”
“Devil-dogs as big as pick-up trucks chasing you through the caverns? Puh-leez!”
“Dirty magazines under your mattress—get a girlfriend why don’t you!”
Brandon rose from his chair, fists curled. “Right after I kick your little...”
“Sit down! And both of you shut your big pie holes!” Dad pounded the table with his fist, causing the flatware to jump in the air. “There will be peace, and there will be quiet, or I shall know the reason why.”
Glory didn’t know what the heck it meant, but whenever that phrase was spoken, her brothers and sister knew they should be very still. The only sound in the kitchen came from Grandpa sloshing eggs around inside his mouth. Dad went to the cupboard and found a bottle of vodka.
“Ma,” Dad asked Nana. “Did you buy some orange juice?”
She opened the refrigerator and found a half a carton, handing it to him with a silent look of disapproval. He poured half the carton into a pitcher and a third of the bottle of vodka, swishing them together.
“Brandon.” Dad set the pitcher down to look for a glass. “The barn is dry as kindling. One stray spark and it’ll go up like a bonfire. Smoke in there again and I’ll have to beat some sense into you. Did I make myself clear?”
Brandon nodded. “Crystal.”
“Glory, are we clear about the mesa?”
“Yes, sir. Now that I know the Hoogula is for real, I’m never going back again.”
Grandpa stopped chewing, giving Glory a puzzled look. “Hoogula? Where?”
“Hush, dear,” Nana said. “Eat your eggs.”
Dad wordlessly left the kitchen with his pitcher and a tall glass. The television clicked on and the latest news from the Farm Report blared through the house.
“Man, oh, man!” Randy squealed, looking to Brandon, and then to Glory, sounding disappointed. “You two got off easy!”
“Easy?” Glory complained, feeling the welts on her backside. “Dad whipped me out in the barn. And it’s all your fault, Brandon.”
“Mine? What did I do?”
“If you hadn’t thrown my things out the window, I wouldn’t have run into the pink-faced bums who stole my shoes.”
Brandon glanced at Randy, and then to Danny, who curled up his lip to emphasize his disgust. “What on Tullah are you talking about?”
“The hoboes with the blue dust, I think they’re the same ones I saw in the woods chomping the heads off squirrels. They were in the barn last night. They said something about me being the soul they were looking for. Then they knocked me out and took my shoes. I bet they’re the ones who murdered the chickens.” Glory gave a paranoid glance behind her and whispered, “I tell you...they’re trying to frame me or something.”
Eyebrows raised, her brothers looked at each other with concern, until Randy snickered.
“Or something, alright. You’ve gone plumb bonkers!”
Milk shot from Danny’s his nose. Randy’s shoulders shook from all the chuckling. Brandon punched both twins in the arms.
“Ow! Why’d you go and do that for?”
“Just shut-up and leave her alone,” Brandon snarled.
Glory was astounded. Did Brandon just stand up for her? That was almost as unbelievable as Hoogulas and midget bums lurking in the barn.
An unexpected knock rattled the front door.
“Who can that be so early in the morning?” Nana said, wiping her hands on her apron. She shuffled out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the front door. Danny hurried past her. He returned breathlessly to the kitchen.
“It’s the cops! They have Patrice!”
Chapter 7
Dad greeted the visitors on the front porch. The Alley kids gathered behind the staircase where the cellar door was located, to eavesdrop. Glory watched Patrice through the glass. She stood between two officers, face puffy, tears rolling down her cheeks. A woman in a gray tweed coat knocked on the door. She had a bony face, short brown hair, and looked familiar.
Keeping one hand on the door handle, Dad spoke with the visitors on the other side of the screen. Nana stood beside him. A brisk wind blew Patrice’s fine strawberry hair into her mouth. Her trembling hand kept removing it, but it kept blowing back again.
“Uh-oh,” Brandon said. “It’s Miss Crenshaw.”
“No, please, not her.” Glory pleaded to the fates. Miss Crenshaw was the lady from children’s services who had zealously tried to split them up right after Mom died. If it wasn’t for Nana moving in after Grandpa’s stroke, they’d be in foster care right now. “I’d rather tangle with the red-eyed devil again than ole Crenshaw,” Glory whispered.
“That can’t be,” she heard Dad say. “Patrice babysits the Miller kids down the road on school nights.”
“That’s right,” Nana agreed. “The mister works the late shift and the misses has to be at work by four in the morning, so they pay Patrice to sleep there and get their little ones off to school.”
“Your daughter hasn’t babysat the Miller kids for two months,” Miss Crenshaw informed. “Seems she’s been babysitting Ted Filmore instead. One of her teachers grew suspicious when he noticed Ted dropping her off at school in the morning.”
Dad’s voice rose in volume, hands flexing at his side. “Why didn’t the school call me sooner?”
“They know the situation here,” Miss Crenshaw stated, voice dripping with contempt. “So they called me first.”
Dad’s chest heaved, but he made no reply.
“I don’t understand,” Nana said. “Did you say she’s been babysitting Ted Filmore? That can’t be right. He’s gotta be twenty by now.”
“Twenty-eight,” Miss Crenshaw corrected.
“Twenty-eight, surely, he doesn’t need a babysitter…” her voice trailed off. Suddenly, she gasped, splaying her fingers over her chest. “Patrice, no!”
Nana cried.
Patrice turned her head toward the fields.
This was bad, really bad. Glory twisted a long strand of hair until it felt like it might rip off her scalp.
“Ted Filmore.” Dad’s voice was controlled, but he kept tightening and untightening his fists, making Glory extra nervous. “Where is he?”
An officer replied. “Jail.”
The muscles in Dad’s jaw visibly strained. “For how long?”
“We can�
�t hold him for more than twenty-four hours without a written complaint. To do that you’ll have come to the station and fill out some forms, or for your convenience, if you’d like to come to the patrol car you can sign an electronic form.”
“Consider it done.” Dad turned to Patrice and started yelling. “What on Tullah were you thinking? Ted Filmore’s a playboy who has never done an honest day’s work in his life, squandering his family’s fortune, using up dumb little girls like you just for kicks. Don’t you want to do more with your life than play house with that loser?”
Patrice screamed like a banshee through a river of tears. “Play house there, cook, clean and play mom here, what’s the difference? At least Ted buys me things and tells me I’m pretty! All I do here is work, work, work and get nothing in return, and I’m tired of it! I don’t care if he’s using me as long as it gets me out of this dump and this poh-dunk town where everybody turns their noses up at the Alleys!”
Dad said nothing, continuing to curl and uncurl his fists.
Randy whispered, “She wouldn’t dare talk to Dad that way if the cops weren’t standing there.”
Danny said, “He’s gonna kill her when they leave.”
Sick with worry, Glory held her hands over her face, peaking through fingers.
“We would like to come in and talk to you some more,” Miss Crenshaw said.
“We can talk through the door,” Dad replied.
“No, I would prefer to talk to you inside, see the children.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t.”
“I expected you to be difficult,” Miss Crenshaw said. “I can and I will come in.”
She pressed a piece of paper up to the screen door for Dad to read. He reluctantly stepped back and Miss Crenshaw entered, followed by the two officers. The Alley siblings slunk back into the kitchen out of view, but angled themselves so they could watch and listen.
Miss Crenshaw frowned as her eyes roamed the surroundings. She lingered at the peeling wallpaper in the living room, the battered dingy walls running the length of the hallway, and the muddy trail of footprints down the scuffed hardwood floor.
Glory Alley and the Star Riders (The Glory Alley Series) Page 6