There was a silence that was oddly comfortable, and Tor let the tea fill his insides with warmth.
“We just got some bad news,” Drake said, finishing a final problem and slamming the book shut.
“Maybe this will break the curse,” Raine said. “You never know.”
“What news?” Tor asked.
“My great-great-great-grandparents’ mining claim,” Raine said. “My dad told me after school today. Mayor Malone finally got a court hearing date down in Denver for the claim. Since the original claim filing was lost, and the copy that my great-great-great-grandmother held can’t be found, there’s going to be a hearing to disinherit the claim and return the land to National Forest.”
“Wait—disinherit? What does that mean?” Tor asked.
“Just what it sounds like,” Drake said gloomily. He shifted in his chair and laid his book aside. “The original court filing of the claim was lost.”
“But if it’s returned to National Forest, won’t that mean it’ll still be protected?” Tor asked.
“Not exactly,” Drake said. “National Forest can be logged, it can be mined, and it can be developed for general use that doesn’t destroy the forest, such as—”
“A ski resort,” Tor finished. “I see. But your mining claim, doesn’t it still mean something even if it was lost?”
“It was stolen from the government files,” Raine said darkly. “That’s what my dad says. We pay the taxes on the claim every year—they’re really low, so it’s no big deal—but unless we find the original deed, we can’t keep the mayor from having the claim revoked.”
“Raine,” Drake said impatiently. “I bet Tor doesn’t even know what a filing claim is.”
“That’d be right,” Tor said.
“Explain,” Raine said, and flapped a hand at Drake.
“Back during the Gold Rush, when a miner found gold, or thought he found gold, he’d take his claim down to the Claim Stake Office,” Drake said. “Just about every town had one, back in the 1800s, and they would file your claim on a map. If someone else had already claimed that land, you wouldn’t get the claim. But like a big Monopoly board, if the place was empty, the land was yours as long as you held the claim and paid the yearly taxes.”
“The office would keep a copy of the claim, of course,” Tor said, emptying his teacup and stifling a longing for a hamburger.
“And the miner would get a certificate for the claim,” Drake continued. “Now everyone in the town knew that the Borsh family, later the Douglas family, held the claim. So even though the filed claim was stolen and the original claim is missing—”
“What—the certificate your family got is missing?” Tor asked.
“Disappeared,” Raine said. One of her black braids slipped over her shoulder and dangled down the front of her shirt. She flipped it back curtly. “And you can guess with whom.”
“Leaping Water?”
“She disappeared into the mountain with the claim,” Raine said.
“They’re going to turn that mountain into another ski slope,” Drake said. “That was against everything your great-great-great-grandmother—”
“Went crazy for,” Raine finished. “That mountain is everything that makes my family a set of…set of…freaks around here. Oh, it isn’t enough that we’re Utes. No, we have to have a crazy squaw ancestor who curses the town so we can’t keep a doctor around—”
“Maybe we can fix that part—” Tor said, but Raine kept on going as though she didn’t hear him.
“Protecting some mythical people that no one has ever seen, nattering on, and now her great-great-great-granddaughter gets teased about a love affair with Bigfoot. I’m sick of it!” Raine threw her wax stick across the room and it shattered on the floor. There was a silence and Raine looked stricken.
“So, Tor, the newest Mayor Malone, he’s the great-grandson of the original Dr. Malone. He’s gotten a hearing in front of a sympathetic judge,” Drake said calmly, getting to his feet and walking over to the shattered wax stick. He crouched down and began picking up the tiny pieces and collecting them in his palm. “Everything is connected here, isn’t it? The only thing that really protected that claim was the fact that so many people knew the Douglas family and knew the story, and didn’t think it was right to go against the family’s wishes.”
Tor thought again of his glimpse down the manhole cover in the street that day in San Diego. Tunnels and wires running everywhere under his feet, invisible.
“But now they don’t care anymore,” Raine said. The angry expression came back over her face. “And I don’t care, either. Maybe the curse will be broken forever now.”
“Oh, sure, that makes sense,” Drake said, dropping the remains of the stick into the trash and taking his seat again. “Leaping Water curses the town, terrible things happen to every doctor since, up to and including Tor’s mom, and now they’re going to bulldoze her mountain. I’m sure that nothing bad will happen now.”
Tor felt like someone had just put snow down his jersey. This didn’t sound good at all. Drake looked surprisingly grim and pale. He was joking like he usually did, but his eyes didn’t look like they were part of the joke.
“An earthquake, maybe?” Raine said in a low voice. “Or something even worse? What could be worse?”
“Flood. Fire. Plague. There’s always something worse,” Drake said.
“What happened? Why did this happen now?” Tor asked.
“Time, that’s all that happened. I guess the grownups decided that the curse couldn’t possibly be real—we’ve just had a run of bad luck with doctors. Or maybe they really think developing the mountain will break the curse and make it go away,” Raine said. “Who knows what grown-ups really think?”
“Plus there’s all that money everybody will make if we have another mountain with ski runs all over it. If Raine’s great-great-great-grandmother doesn’t come walking out of those woods with the original claim certificate, that mountain is going to be disinherited. It’ll be developed by next summer,” Drake said.
“And you and your mom will be long gone,” Raine said. “Or we all will, because something utterly horrible is going to happen.”
“Of course something horrible is going to happen,” Tor said. “Mayor Malone is going to steal your land from you. That sounds typical, doesn’t it? The white guys stealing the land from the Indians again? It’s just not right.”
Raine laughed. Tor looked over at her and she was smiling. The angry spots of color were still in her cheeks but she looked better.
“I never thought of it that way, but I guess you’re right,” she said. “I honestly never thought about the money. Dad would never sell, and Mom wouldn’t hear of it, either. So it isn’t about the money. It’s about the land being developed at all.”
“Because of your great-great-great-grandmother’s mythical people,” Tor said. “Because of her wishes. And the curse.”
“Yeah,” Raine said sadly.
“Well, there’s one good thing,” Tor said.
“What’s that?” Drake and Raine said together.
“I’m not the only one facing the curse,” Tor said. “We’re all in it together now.”
Later, Tor walked home through the freezing cold darkness and tried to keep the warmth he’d built up inside his body. He shifted his board into his other hand and thought about all the things they’d talked about. He was thinking about Mayor Malone and his plans to bulldoze Leaping Water’s sacred mountain when he walked through his back door. He saw his mom struggling with Mayor Malone, who had his hands wrapped around her throat.
“HEY!” TOR SHOUTED. He stepped forward and rammed the end of his snowboard into Mayor Malone’s middle. Mayor Malone doubled over, staggered back, and sprawled on his backside on the kitchen tiles. His mouth made an O under the mustache, making the mayor look more than ever like a big Mr. Potato Head. His expensive camel-colored coat puddled around him on the floor.
“Tor!” his mom said breathlessly, a
nd turned to the mayor, who was sitting, making a whistling sound through his open mouth. “Are you all right?”
Tor knew that sound—he’d had the air knocked out of him before, when he’d fallen off the monkey bars at school and landed flat on his back. Until the air had started coming back, all Tor could think about was trying to breathe and not being able to. He’d made the same whistling sound.
“Are you all right, Mom?” Tor said. “Did he hurt you?”
“No!” his mom said, and then, impossibly, she put her hands over her face and started to laugh. “I’m so sorry, Stanford.” She didn’t sound sorry at all.
“He was trying to kill you!” Tor said. The reaction was setting in as his heart slowed down. He felt sick to his stomach and furiously angry.
The kitchen was warm with light and full of good smells from something Dr. Sinclair had been cooking. Tor saw two cups of coffee sitting on the blue countertop. His mom was wearing her purple scrubs. Her cheeks had two spots of red and her eyes glittered fiercely.
“He was trying to kiss me,” Dr. Sinclair said tartly. “And I wasn’t prepared for it. Stanford, let me help you up. Come on, now, you’re all right.”
Mayor Malone was breathing again, although his face was grayish-green and sweaty. He looked at Tor with an expression so murderous that Tor tightened his grip on his snowboard and took a step back.
“I thought you were hurting my mom,” he said, and there was no apology in his voice because he wasn’t about to apologize. No way.
“I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Mayor Malone said weakly, holding a hand over his stomach. “You didn’t have the right to do that. You—”
“Actually, you know, he did,” Dr. Sinclair said. “He was protecting his mother from what he thought was an attack. Next time you want to kiss me, Stanford, why don’t you ask me out on a date first?” Tor felt his stomach twist as his mother laughed in a sparkling kind of way and laid a gentle hand on Mayor Malone’s arm. The mayor’s expression lightened a bit and he smiled down at her. She smiled back up at him, squeezed his arm, and pushed him gently toward the door. “Now, I have to put out supper for my son and me, so you need to head on home. Call me next time, all right?”
“I’ll do that,” Mayor Malone said. Tor thought for sure that he was going to say something to him, but he must have had second thoughts, because the mayor turned and, with a mumbled good-bye, left.
Tor went to put his snowboard away and strip out of his clothes. He felt sick. If his mom was going to go on dates with that disgusting mayor, he guessed he’d rather go back and live with his dad and stepmom. The twins would have to learn how to sleep through the night sometime, after all. He felt sicker and more upset by the second.
Dr. Sinclair was busy in the kitchen. When Tor came out of the bedroom, dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, she had a supper on the table that smelled delicious. The blinds were closed on every window and that made the kitchen warmer than before.
“Hold still,” his mother said. “Don’t sit down.” She walked over and hugged him fiercely. “That’s for saving me from that creep.”
Tor felt as though something dropped through his stomach, out the bottom of his feet, and was gone. He looked at his mom and she was smiling at him even though her eyes were shiny with anger.
“Really?”
“Really. I’ve never been so surprised in all my life. One minute we’re talking about plans for expanding the clinic and he’s telling me all about this new ski area he’s going to build—”
“Yeah, I know about—”
“And the next second, he’s got his beef-wad arms around me and he’s trying to kiss me. I think he was trying to cup my face in his hands, that’s why you thought he was strangling me. What a pompous, egotistical, ridiculous jerk!”
Tor sat down, feeling cheerful and lighter than air and suddenly starving. His mother had made two individual potpies. He blew on a forkful of food and took a bite.
“So he just thought he’d mash on you, just like that?” Tor asked after he swallowed.
“Is that what they call it now?” his mom said, then shrugged and dropped into her seat as though she were a teenager. “Yeah, I guess so. He was trying to mash. Echh.”
“Totally echh,” Tor said, and forked another bite. “I don’t remember you cooking this good.”
“I didn’t used to,” his mom said, pulling her own potpie toward her. “I learned during medical school. Cooking was something to distract me from work. It helped me get through, I guess.”
“Lots of alone time,” Tor said, and took another huge bite. “I know what you mean.”
There was a silence and he and his mom looked at each other. Then Tor deliberately shrugged his shoulders. Whatever had been was over now. His mom nodded as though he’d spoken, and they ate together in complete harmony, the kitchen warm and close around the two of them and the blinds closed to the snow and the night.
“Ewww,” Raine said, and giggled.
“Echh is right,” Drake said. “What a waster.”
Today’s lunch was chicken nuggets again, a sorry bit of food compared with last night’s dinner, but Tor was starving. Gloria had given him another day alone to practice heel-and-toe on his snowboard and he couldn’t wait for school to end so he could get to the mountain. There was even more powder today, and it was Thursday. The coming weekend would give him a chance to practice everything he’d learned. Now, though, was an opportunity to share his news about the mayor.
“I thought he was married,” Tor said. “Isn’t his son Jeff Malone?
“Divorced a long time ago.”
“No, I thought he was widowed,” Raine corrected Drake. “Right?”
“Great small-town gossips we’re turning out to be,” Drake said. “We’re supposed to know everything in this town. We don’t know anything.”
“But now you know that Mayor Malone has the hots for my mom,” Tor said.
They all paused to say “Echh” again.
“That might take him off your list of suspects, Tor,” Raine pointed out. “After all, if he likes her, he’d want to keep her around. He wouldn’t want her gone.”
Drake looked at Raine with an expression that seemed to hurt him. She looked back at Drake and winced.
“What do you mean?” Tor asked Drake, even though Drake hadn’t spoken aloud.
“My father doesn’t keep women around,” Drake explained, with an uncaring expression that didn’t reach his eyes. “They come, they go. Mayor Malone probably doesn’t want to marry your mom; he just wants to, you know, sleep with her.”
Tor shoved away his tray, this time with uneaten food still on it.
“Your mom?” he asked Drake. It seemed odd he hadn’t asked before now.
“Dunno,” Drake said with a twisted sort of smile. “I was dropped off at my dad’s place at the age of three with a note attached to my overalls.”
Raine stirred the uneaten food on her tray. “Drake’s mom hasn’t ever been seen and nobody knows who she is, but Drake’s dad took him in and took care of him. Sorta.”
“Sorta,” Drake said. “As long as I clear out when he brings home somebody new, that is.”
“Sorry about that,” Tor mumbled, not knowing what else to say.
“That’s okay, the girls never last more than a week,” Drake said. “Raine’s family lets me stay with them, those times. So you see, you stumbled into the freak-show area of your new school, Tor. Ute Girl and Sweater Boy. Sure you want to stick around?”
Tor thought about this for a moment. “I’m cursed,” he pointed out.
“He’s right,” Raine said. She was looking at Drake with an anxious, sad expression. These two weren’t just friends—they’d grown up together in a way Tor hadn’t known about until now. “He has to stick with us freaks.”
“Besides, people like you,” Tor said. Oddly enough, this was true. Drake and Raine didn’t care about being popular, but everyone seemed to like them. If they were freaks, they were popular
freaks. “The most exclusive club in school, and I got in just by being cursed to a horrible death.”
“A fair exchange,” Drake said, his tense body relaxing. He grinned at Tor as he gathered his tray. “See you in choir practice, O Cursed One.”
“If I make it there alive, you will,” Tor said with mock gloom.
Tor felt energized as he walked out of choir at three o’clock. Ms. Adams had them sing the “Angels We Have Heard on High” song they’d been working on all week with all the parts put together: baritone, soprano, alto, and bass. Ms. Adams was wearing dark red pants and a velvety tunic in the same color. Her fiery hair looked like orange flames above the red, and she directed with such intensity that Tor found himself singing loudly for the first time.
Afterward, when she ended the piece and put down her wand, the class erupted into applause. She grinned at them, and her smile made her look more like an elf than ever. Then she threw out her arms and bowed. The bell rang amid the laughter and applause, and the school day was over.
Tor left with the song still inside his head. He smiled all the way home. There was a mountain to conquer and an abyss to face. As he bounded through the back door of his house and grabbed his thermals from the drying rack in the laundry room, he could feel happiness filling him like a water balloon. Time to ride.
On Friday afternoon, out of breath, knowing he was too tired but having too much fun to stop, Tor came to a halt halfway down the mountain as he saw the red jackets of the Ski Patrol unreeling red plastic fencing around the bottom part of the bunny slope. He sat down next to the tree line so he could watch what was going on—it looked like the chairlifts had been stopped, too. Then he heard a distant thumping sound and he understood. They were clearing a space for a Flight for Life helicopter. He hadn’t seen anyone get hurt, but he’d only been riding one slope of a ski resort that covered three different mountains. Maybe that was why none of the snowboarding team had bothered him today.
The White Gates Page 8