Master Barry,” said Martin. “I’ll just shrink to a teensy weensy
speck of dust and hide under your dresser. Will that work?” Aching arm and all, that was the last thing I remembered.
CHAPTER 17: THE REUNION
“Nothing brightens the day like the greeting of a close friend.”
~Martin Moonglow Sunday mornings at our house were always chaotic, what with getting ready for Sunday school and attending church afterward. Now this is the scoop: Ever since Dad died, the church families have been there for us. Even before the funeral, people kept showing up at our door with complete meals. Then, over the next few months, folks would come over to mow the lawn or rake leaves. One guy brought his ladder over so he could climb up to clean the gutters. Even now people still drop in, some to bring a hot dish or a pie, some just to check that we’re okay.
I have to say that the church folks have been great. Even Jenny agrees. And Mom—Mom raves about them to anybody within earshot. So you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that Jen and I have this unspoken pact. We don’t complain about going to church. When Sunday rolls around, we both get up without a single groan, get dressed, and even make breakfast so Mom has time to get ready herself.
Mom hates to cook on the weekends so she often takes us out to eat when church is over. If you want to know the truth, I think it’s her way of thanking us for sitting through boring sermons. And I mean boring. Some of them are real snoozers. Jenny and I have a contest to see who can catch the other one falling asleep. Once I lost the bet three Sundays in a row.
But Sunday afternoons is our time. Mom lets Jenny and I do pretty well what we want. We can do homework, (not likely), take a nap (What! Burn daylight lying in bed?), or weed the garden (in your dreams). All she asks is that we keep the house quiet so she can catch up on her sleep.
Sunday afternoons used to be my special time with Dad. Up until today, just the thought of a hike up the mountain or a game of catch brought a lump in my throat.
But today was different. Today we had Martin and Amelia. While Mom rested, Jenny and I slipped away from the house. We wanted to talk out loud to our keepers. It washonkin’ great, in fact, pig heaven for two kids starved for adult attention. And our keepers were super. They even took us on a cloud-level tour of the whole city. Riding a hundred feet above the ground was an experience I won’t soon forget. We actually walked—well rode—through the clouds. The people below looked like automated toys.
Fall has always been my favorite season. The crisp, frosty air, the smell of leaves, and the colors—wow! They took our breath away. I mean, the trees looked like huge bouquets of orange, red and yellow. I looked over at Jenny and shouted, “Isn’t this the coolest way to spend a Sunday afternoon?”
Jenny squealed and yelled, “Yeah! Totally rippin’!” That’s when we heard the music. It was coming from all over the valley.
I saw Amelia look over at Martin.
“Can you hear it, children?” she asked.
“Yes. But where’s it coming from? We don’t see anything,” Jenny called up.
Ameliaturned to Martin. “Shall we join them?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “You lead the way, Amelia. Touch the air so the children can watch as well as hear.”
With that, Amelia swept her great arms out in front of her. In a nanosecond we could see thousands of giant keepers standing all over the city, their arms lifted to the sky, singing. The spectacle blew our minds.
And the music. For some reason it sounded familiar but I had no idea why. All I can say is that it was a combination of a killer rock concert mixed with Metropolitan opera—but even that description didn’t fit. But get this: Neither Jenny nor I remember being bothered by the loudness of the music, even though Martin and Amelia were singing at full volume right over our heads. After a while, Jenny and I joined in. I saw Jenny wiping tears several times. Before we knew it, the sun was setting. The day was over and in a few huge strides, our keepers set us down at our back door.
The moment we walked into house, we heard a voice.
“Hey! Anybody home?”
I looked at Jenny. “That sounds like Chad,” I said.
Chad, of course, has been my best friend since early middle school. His family moved here three years ago when Chad’s father retired from the military.
As I walked to the front of the house, I wondered how it was that Chad and I hit it off so well. Okay, yeah. We both are nuts about electronics and we have the old making-good-grades thing going on between us. But that’s where the similarities ends.
The fact is, we are really different. I’m a ghost—a ghost with red hair, no less. My looks are average at best. Chad, on the other hand, is known at school as “The Face.” No kidding. Mugs like his show up in celebrity magazines all the time. And his dark skin—whee-oo! He can lay out on a beach for a week and come back looking like a Greek god. Me? Fifteen minutes even at sunset and I’m a lobster. It is so not fair. Add to that, I’m skinny and Chad at thirteen and a half already looks like he belongs in the NFL. No surprise that he’s alreadythe school’s best football linebacker. The guys on the team call him “Tree Trunk.”
But he likes me. I’m the first one he looks up when he gets to school and he’s always has his eye out for me if we have different class schedules. I think he likes the way I treat him. I mean, I don’t make a big fuss over him like other guys, and I have this teasing thing going on with him almost nonstop. To hear us, you’d think we werearch enemies cuz we’re always taking verbal jabs at each other. The truth is, neither of us means a single word. I dunno. I guess it’s our secret way of telling the other guy we like him without gettin’ all mushy and stuff.
Anyway, Ican’t tell you how excited I was to see him. I bounded through the hallway door and skidded to a stop. There he stood, dark and tanned like a movie star. Chad was back.
“Hey, you slime ball!” I sputtered, making like I was going to punch him in the arm. “You’re supposed to be in Hawaii.” Chad feigned surprise.
I stepped back with my arms folded. “Let me guess. You hacked into the hotel’s computer system and they threw you out.”
“Nope!” said Chad. “Well . . . yeah, but they didn’t catch me. That’s not to say that they won’t find a few surprises on their menu tomorrow, though.” Chad wrote his imaginary headlines in the air. “‘Eggs Benedict: The surest way to betray your diet.’ I just couldn’t resist. Too bad I won’t be there to see the face of that stuck-up head waiter.”
“Okay. Reality check,” I said. “What’s the real reason you’re back so soon? C’mon. Spit it out.”
Chad sighed and sagged. “Dad got called back on a military emergency,” he said. “You’d never guess the man was retired. He says we’ll go back to Hawaii another time. But,” and here, Chad leaned toward me in a conspiratorial whisper, “If you want my opinion, I think we left because of the new boyfriend Kayla picked up. Dad couldn’t stand him.”
I snorted and plopped down on a footstool. “Can’t your sister go anywhere without reeling in some dopey airhead? She attracts guys like flies to manure.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Chad, “‘cept I liked this one. He had this classy maroon BMW. So sweet. He sure beats out the last one she had. Remember him?”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, “The one she met on the internet. Didn’t she almost run off with him even though she’d never even seen him? And if I remember right, didn’t you use some rippin’ spy gadget to tap into her email or something?”
“Right,” Chad said, sniggering. “That little baby paid for itself in one fell swoop that day. Dad and Mom never did know it was me that tipped them off about Kayla’s plan to run away.”
“Good thing, too,” I said. “That guy was one scary dude. Didn’t he talk about blowing up the world? I still can’t believe anyone, let alone your sister—a military brat no less—could dream of running off with a virtual terrorist.”
“No joke,” said Chad. “But hey, this guy over
in Hawaii was all right. I wouldn’t mind seeing more of him.”
Seeing Chad was like a breath of fresh air in a smoky room. The sight of him seemed to take my crazy universe and set it right side up again. Chad and I shared everything. We even had a secret cave hideout up in the mountains that was ours alone. Nobody knew about it except us two guys.
My mom liked him and he loved being at our place. He told me once that he felt like our house was his other digs.
Chad had no problem making himself at home either. I watched him throw himself down on our old couch. “Man, how I love this house,” he said.
I snickered. “Whoa, Chaddo! A few more bounces like that and our old sofa will be a pile of splinters.”
“Yeah?” he looked up and grinned. “So, what gives around here?” he asked.
At that moment Jenny poked her head around the corner. “Hi Chad,” she said. “Gee, you look like you spent several days in a tanning booth.”
“Nope,” said Chad. “Just a week on a realbeach.”
Jenny rolled her eyes. “Huh. Must be nice. Hey Barry, Mom wants to know if you’ve got your homework done.”
“You can tell her, yes. I did it in study hall at school.” When Jenny left, I made a face. “Count your lucky stars you don’t have a nosey little sister.”
“Big, little—what’s the difference? Sisters are a pain in the patootie no matter how old they are,” said Chad. Then, changing the subject, he said, “So, did you wear your pajamas to school while I was gone?”
I made a yuck face. “That was two years ago, banana brain, and it wasn’t pajamas. It was just a big red sweatshirt.”
“Sure looked like pajamas to me,” said Chad, snorting. I threw a pillow at him.
Chad laughed. “I just love it when your face turns the same color as your hair.”
I rolled my eyes and growled, “I wish you were a computer. I’d delete your entire hard drive in two seconds flat. Then I’d give you a hard reboot. Hey. A reboot would be just the thing right now.”
I faked a kungfu kick at Chad’s head. He threw up his arms and howled.
“You wuss,” he said with a snigger. “You’re just sore ’cause I haven’t been around to give you a hard time.” Then he heaved a sigh. Chad getting serious? No way.
“You gotta know it was no fun in Hawaii without you, Barry. Couldn’t tell a soul what I did to the hotel computers. Nobody appreciates my genius like you do.”
I pretended to choke and stagger around the room. Then I stopped and said, “Genius, is it? I dunno. There’s a fine line between a genius and a lunatic.Let’s face it. You’re a lunatic.”
Chad sent the pillow sailing back and we both laughed so hard our sides ached.
Then it was my turn to get sober. I was dying to tell Chad about my spirit sight. I started to say something, but in one swift move, Martin was in my face.
“No, Master Barry, you are to say nothing to Chad about your spirit sight. Do you understand? Nothing.”
I nodded.
All I could say in the end was, “It was no picnic here either. Nobody to hang out with.” I looked over at Martin and he gave me a thumbs up sign.
My mind must have drifted because Chad hollered and waved. “Yo! Barryboy. I’m still here. You keep looking over at the corner of the room. Are you seein’ ghosts?” Then he chortled at his own joke.
I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there. Then I heard the honk of a car outside.
“Uh-oh,” Chad said. “My dad’s waiting outside for me. Gotta bounce.” He slapped his knees and jumpedup. “You on for a bike race after school tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I said and flexed my arm.
He skip-hopped down the front steps.“See you tomorrow,” he called.
Bike ride. Sure. If my arm ever quits hurting.
CHAPTER 18: PAIN AND CONFUSION
“There is always a purpose for pain, but few choose to explore the reasons behind it.
~Martin Moonglow I went up to get ready for bed. It was time to check my bandages again. My arm was agony tonight. In spite of all the antibacterial goop, and all the care I had been giving it, the wounds were not getting better. In fact, they were worse. The punctures, now white and puffy, were obviously infected. After completing the bandage ritual once more, I flopped down on the commode lid. Why was this pain not going away? Nothing I did seemed to make any difference.
That did it. Now I really needed to talk to Martin. The opportunity came the moment I stepped back into my bedroom.
Martin was again sitting on the dresser, but tonight, he looked like he was waiting for me.
“There you are, Master Barry. Ready for a good night’s sleep?”
I shook my head. “Not just yet. I have one question to ask you.”
“All right, Barry. One question it is,” said Martin.
I swallowed hard. “Look, Martin,” I said, “ I’ve noticed your powers are pretty impressive. I mean, you took care of Jenny’s injury yesterday right on the spot. I was just—well, wondering— could you heal my arm, too? Please? It really hurts. I know this is more than a scratch but it should be no biggie, right?”
Martin looked over at me and said, “Well, Master Barry, I just now finished talking to the Great Prince about that arm of yours. It seems you need to talk to your mother about it.”
“My . . . my mother!” I exploded. “She knows nothing about my arm – and I don’t want her to know, either.” No bleepin’ way am I telling Mom about this.
“Suit yourself, Master Barry! All I know is that your sore arm has something to do with telling your mother something. That’s all the Prince would tell me.”
I stared at Martin. Is this bozo for real? If I tell Mom I went to the arcade, I’ll be grounded ‘til I’m sixty.
After a moment, I mumbled, “I can’t tell my mom.” When Martin cocked his head at me, I added, “And no, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Well, Master Barry, whenever you need a listening ear, I’m right here. In the meantime, you better catch some . . . how do you say it? . . . eyeshuts?”
“It’s ‘shut-eye’, Martin,” I said. “And with this arm torturing me, I’m sure I won’t be sleeping.”
“That’s too bad, Barry. They say pain will do that to humans,” said Martin heaving a big sigh.
So now we’re doing the exaggerated “I really care” routine, is that it?
I decided that the least I could do is take a couple of aspirin. After a trip to the bathroom and a couple of swigs of water to down the pills, I tottered back to my bed. Crawling in, I took to pounding my pillow. I looked over at Martin and said, “So you’re just going to stay sitting on that desk all night? Don’t you have to sleep too?”
He shook his head. “You must not have been listening. Remember when Amelia told Jenny she doesn’t sleep? Well, I don’t either. The truth is that I’ve been sitting here every night for several years now. I’ll be fine. But thank you for asking.”
“Well, don’t forget. I need a dark room,” I said.
“Oh, right-o,” said Martin. “I’ll just go find my little hiding place.” In an instant, the room went black.
I rolled over and stared at the shadows on the wall, still wide awake. I shifted back over.
“Martin?” I called.
The keeper popped back to normal size and again, he lit up my room. “Yes, Barry?” he said.
“Martin,” I began. Then I came right out with it. “Why do I have to tell my mother about being at the arcade? How’s that going to cure my sore arm?”
Martin leaned back against the desk and folded his arms.
“Maybe I should ask you a question,” he said. “Did your mother know you went to the arcade? She always knows where you are, right?”
I paused then mumbled, “No, she didn’t know where I went that day.”
Martin’s eyebrows went up. “Oh-h-h . . . . So, am I to understand that youdid not have permission to be at the arcade?”
“Yeah, I guess
.”
Okay. This conversation is going from bad to very bad.
“But you knew this all along, right? You’re just asking these questions to make me feel bad. I mean, you’ve been with me since birth so you know everything about me. Isn’t that so?”
Martin lifted his chin and stared me straight in the eye. “Have you forgotten what I told you about your episode at the arcade? I was not there. Somehow the demon world cloaked you from my sight. Again, I repeat. I was not there. I do not know what happened.”
“Oh.”
Martin nodded his head. “And as I see it, Barry, your arm is going to stay sore until you confess to your mother about it. That wound is there to remind you that you have something you need to do. Your mother may not know of your actions but the Great Prince does. He sees everything. He knows that you need to make things right with your mother.”
Martin cleared his throat then went on. “Master Barry, I am not just whistling in the wind here. Even though I begged the Prince several times, he refused to heal your arm. He said, ‘No. Not until the boy speaks with his mother.’”
I threw myself back onto the bed, my hands over my face and Martin’s words ricocheting in my ears. I felt like a boat anchor had landed on my chest. Why does this always happen to me? Mom warned me about the arcade. I just hate it when she’s right.
I rolled over and looked at the keeper. “Okay,” I muttered, “I’ll tell her first thing in the morning.”
At that moment there was a knock on the door.
“Barry?” It was Mom calling outside my door. “Barry, you have a phone call.”
I got up and opened the door.
“A phone call?”
“Yes, dear,” Mom said. “I know it’s late, but it’s Chad and he seems pretty upset.” She handed me the phone.
I grabbed the phone and said, “Chad? You okay?”
Chad didn’t answer for a moment. When he spoke, his voice sounded gravelly.
“Barry, I’m so scared.” He was whispering so low I could barely hear him. “I don’t know who to talk to. I just found out somethin’ really bad.”
The Blood Jewel (The Shomara Diaries Book 1) Page 9