“Hey, you two. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” Mrs. P was setting up the outdoor table for what was sure to be a BBQ feast.
“What are we having tonight?” Riya asked Mr. P, as she headed over to where he was busy at the grill.
“Burgers, hot dogs, roasted veggies, corn, and grilled salami.” He flipped a burger and rotated the aluminum wrapped corn.
Riya reached for a grilled pepper that was already stacked on a plate beside the grill. “Mmmm. Grilled to perfection as usual.”
“Well I am the Grill King, aren’t I?” Mr. P turned and modelled the apron they had given him for his birthday last month. White block letters that spelled, Grill King, adorned the black canvas material. “I have to make sure I live up to my reputation.”
“Well, you are doing a splendid job.” Riya tried to steal a piece of salami from one of the warming racks, but Mr. P swiftly closed the lid. “Patience, my dear. You have to wait like everyone else.”
“Kieran, can you please pass me the napkins?” Mrs. P pointed to the red and white gingham napkins that were piled at the opposite end of the table from where she stood. Kieran gathered the cloth napkins and walked them to Mrs. P, who was straightening the place settings.
“Thanks.” Mrs. P paused and assessed Kieran. “Are you feeling okay? You're looking a little flush. And your eyes have that glassy look to them.” She touched the back of her hand to Kieran's forehead.
Kieran wasn’t about to divulge the emotional rollercoaster he had just experienced at Laken House.
“A bit of a headache, I guess.”
Not a total lie.
Not a lie at all.
His hand moved to massage his throbbing temple. Kieran had ignored the growing tension in his head over the past few days. He was completely consumed with finding the truth that he believed was hidden within Laken House. He was fuelled by adrenalin. But now, having come off that rollercoaster, the pounding in his head was ever-present and unrelenting.
“Come inside with me. Let me get you something to help.” Mrs. P waved Kieran over as she headed toward the house. “They can finish up out here.”
***
“How does that feel?” Mrs. P stood behind Kieran, rubbing some type of minty smelling oil on his temples.
“Pretty good, actually. Refreshing.” He settled further into the kitchen chair.
Mrs. P softly chuckled. “It’s peppermint oil.”
Mrs. P picked up a mug from the drying rack and opened the refrigerator. She pulled out a lemon and a jar of dark golden liquid—Kieran was unsure what it was. He watched as she cut the lemon in half and squeezed its juice into the mug. She pulled out a saucepan and filled it with the unknown dark liquid. She then switched on the burner and turned to Kieran. “It shouldn't take too long to warm up. Glad I had some ready on-hand.”
After a few minutes, she poured the contents of the saucepan into the mug and handed it to Kieran. “Homemade ginger tea.”
He took the mug in his hands and inhaled the strong scent.
“This should help. In case you’re coming down with something.”
Riya knocked on the kitchen window and motioned for the two of them to come outside. “Dinner’s ready.” They followed the movement of her lips.
“Come. Let’s eat. Bring that with you.”
Kieran took a small sip and followed Mrs. P outside.
***
Over the next number of days, Kieran consumed his fair share of ginger tea and became closely acquainted with the peppermint and oregano oils from the special basket that Mrs. P stored in the kitchen cabinet. He was starting to feel much better. Whatever had infected him still lingered, but the pounding had stopped and no other symptoms had developed. The uninterrupted, restful sleep had also made a difference. It had been close to a week since Kieran had experienced a psychic dream, which always seemed to leave him feeling quite drained.
After almost seven days of normal, ordinary, run-of-the-mill dreams, Kieran began to wonder whether his and Riya’s explanation of his psychic dreams was perhaps a big overreaction—perhaps it was just a bunch of coincidences playing tricks with his mind.
Maybe I’m not psychic at all...
Kieran wasn’t sure how he felt about that, and that surprised him.
Seven
Like a Superhero
“RIYA, GET UP. WE have to go.” Kieran pushed Riya’s bedroom door open. He was already fully dressed with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He came to a stop at the edge of her bed and hovered.
Riya peeked her head out from underneath her bedcovers and focused on the clock on her bedside table. She then buried herself back under the covers and turned away from Kieran. “I still have 20 minutes,” her voice was muffled but unyielding.
Kieran held onto the edge of the comforter and pulled. Riya gasped and grasped for it, but she had no chance. It landed in a heap at Kieran’s feet within seconds.
She flipped her pillow up and over top of her head, shielding her face. “20 minutes, Kieran.”
“I had a dream. We need to leave NOW.”
Riya raised the pillow off of her face and squinted up at him. She waited for her eyes to adjust, and for Kieran to elaborate.
“It was about a little boy…and a bus…I can’t take a chance. I’m not waiting to see if I hear something about it on the six o’clock news tonight. Please, let’s go.” Kieran’s voice was frantic.
That’s all Riya needed to hear. She flung her pillow to the ground and got out of bed. Kieran grabbed a couple of Pop-Tarts from the kitchen, and Riya quickly threw on whatever clothes she had lying on her floor. The two of them were on their way.
“So what did your ‘spidey sense’ tell you?” Riya joked through a mouthful of food. She was scurrying behind Kieran, trying to keep up.
Kieran didn’t answer. He was scanning their surroundings, intent on getting to where they needed to be before it was too late.
“There it is!” He pointed to the bus stop half a block up the road and quickened his pace until he was in a full-out sprint. Riya’s eyes widened as she took a deep breath. She ran as fast as she could to catch up to Kieran. When the two of them reached their destination, they dropped their backpacks and collapsed on the bench in the glass enclosure, both of them breathless.
Riya looked around. “Now what?”
Kieran stood and rubbed the back of his neck, looking back in the direction from which they came. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun making its ascent in the sky.
“There,” he motioned. Riya rose and stood next to him.
They watched as three figures approached. A little boy riding a two-wheeler and outfitted with a Spiderman helmet, followed by his mother, who was holding a taught leash attached to a feisty, but playful, terrier.
“Spiderman.” Riya chuckled to herself.
“Look at me, Mom.” The boy’s voice carried in the crisp spring air as he quickly peddled. He came to a stop about 10 feet ahead of her, only a short block from where Kieran and Riya stood.
“You’re amazing, Ryan. I’m so proud of you!” She pumped her free hand above her head.
“I stopped without falling this time!”
“See, I knew you’d get it. Why don’t you ride to the end of the block, just after the bus stop, and wait for me? I have to pick up after Wylie.” She bent down with a plastic bag covering her hand and then found a nearby garbage can to dispose of Wylie’s morning movement.
Ryan steadied himself on his bike and took off toward the end of the block.
Kieran heard the deep rumble of a bus as it neared the bus stop. He whipped his head in the opposite direction from where the bus was approaching and eyed Ryan, who was picking up speed. Kieran looked back to the bus. This is it. His heart instantly began thumping in his chest, and adrenaline surged through his body. His legs took off in quick calculated steps in the direction of the advancing bus. To Riya, Kieran looked like
he was heading toward an invisible target. But Kieran knew exactly where to go—he prayed he would get there in time.
Riya’s eyes followed Ryan as he rode, with a smile spread across his face, past the glass enclosure of the bus stop. Seconds later, Ryan lost control of his bike. Riya wasn’t sure what happened—maybe a stone, or a crack in the sidewalk. She hurried in his direction. The front wheel of Ryan’s bike jerked to the right, steering him off the sidewalk and over the newly seeded grass at the edge of the road. His small hands held onto the uncontrollable handlebars as though his life depended on it. His screams filled the air as he headed directly into the pathway of the oncoming bus. Kieran sprinted the last couple of steps and stretched out his arm. He grabbed hold of Ryan’s thin jacket and, with all of his strength, Kieran yanked Ryan from his bike. The brakes of the bus screeched. Kieran stumbled backward, leaving muddy tracks across the sidewalk. His momentum carried him until he fell onto the grass, with Ryan securely in his arms.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Kieran loosened his grip on the little boy and then helped him to his feet.
Riya stood off to the side, her mouth agape. Ryan’s mother was frantically racing toward them. Wylie ran behind her, his trailing leash bouncing from side to side.
Ryan’s small body was shaking. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his mother quickly checked him for injuries and then buried him in her arms.
“Shhh. You’re okay.” She stood up holding him, rubbing circles over his back until his tears subsided.
Kieran shifted his eyes to the road. He watched as the bus driver attempted to free Ryan’s crushed bike from underneath the huge rubber tire.
“You saved my son’s life. Thank you.” Gratitude shone through Ryan’s mother’s glistening eyes.
“He saved me, Mommy,” said Ryan.
“He sure did, Ry.” She gave him a kiss and lowered Ryan back down to the sidewalk. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Ryan flung himself toward Kieran, wrapping his arms around Kieran’s waist.
“Thank you. You’re like a superhero.” Ryan’s eyes were dry and his smile stretched from ear to ear.
“It was my pleasure. I was in the right place at the right time.” Kieran put his arm around Ryan and then turned and winked at Riya.
Superhero. I could get used to that.
***
“I like seeing you like this.” Riya looked over at Kieran as they stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and waited to cross the road.
“Like what?” Kieran leaned in to smell the purple lilacs blooming on the bush next to where he stood. He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sun, absorbing the warmth.
“Ever since this morning, that grin has been plastered on your face. Even Terry’s antics couldn’t wipe it off today.”
Kieran smiled wider and nodded. The cars on the road came to stop, the orange hand changed to the walking man, and the two of them crossed to the other side.
“Maybe this whole psychic thing isn’t that bad then…” Riya probed.
“Maybe not,” Kieran agreed.
But that doesn’t make it any less scary.
***
The hinges of the screen door screeched as Kieran pulled it open and let Riya pass through into the kitchen.
“Hey kids, how was school today?” Mrs. P was sitting at the kitchen table with her hands wrapped around a mug of tea. She motioned her head to a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the counter. “Just took those out of the oven.”
Kieran and Riya let their backpacks slide off their shoulders and drop to the ground, each swiftly grabbing a cookie in each of their hands.
Mrs. P laughed. “So anything interesting happen today?”
They paused mid-chewing, widening their eyes at each other. They looked back at Mrs. P who had an unmistakable glimmer in her eye.
Riya swallowed. “Why do you ask?”
“I got an interesting phone call today.”
They glanced at each other again.
Mrs. P continued, “Someone from the local paper contacted me. He asked permission to print a story about you, Kieran. It seems that you are a local hero.” She was beaming.
“How did they get your number?” Kieran stumbled with his words.
He thought back to the aftermath of the incident that morning. The photo Ryan had insisted his mother take of him hugging Kieran. The conversation he had with the transit and police officers that arrived on the scene—when he was asked his name, what school he went to, and what had transpired. Kieran hadn't spoken with anyone from the local paper. And as soon as they were able to leave, he and Riya hurried off to school.
“The reporter called the school and the school gave him my number.”
Investigative reporting at its best.
“I’m so proud of you.” She stood up and wrapped her arms around Kieran. He stiffened at first, but then relaxed in her embrace. It had been so long since he had heard those words directed at him.
“It was nothing.”
“It certainly was not nothing. You saved a boy’s life, Kieran.” Mrs. P released him.
“Don't be so modest Kieran. You will forever be a real-life superhero to that kid,” Riya joined in.
Kieran’s cheeks flushed. He lowered his head and reached for another cookie.
Mrs. P looked at her watch. “Oh. I gotta get ready.” She emptied the remainder of her tea in the sink, quickly washed the mug and then balanced it on the rack to dry. “Jim is coming with me to the lecture tonight. Grace’s daughter has the flu, so he’s going to take Grace’s ticket.”
“Does Mr. P know that yet?” Riya asked, smirking.
“Yes, he does.” Mr. P’s voice filled the kitchen, walking in right on cue, looking less than enthused. He grabbed a cookie and leaned back against the counter.
“And he’s not going to complain.” Mrs. P narrowed her eyes at him. “And he’s going to put on a happy face and take notes for me.”
Mr. P raised his eyebrows and curved his lips into the smallest of smiles.
“What more can you possibly have to learn that all those books out there haven't already taught you?” He pointed to the bookshelf in the living room that was overflowing with books on essential oils and their healing properties.
“There is always something more to learn…” She took a dishtowel and gently whipped it at his arm.
“Ow!” He rubbed at the spot where the towel had connected with his arm.
“You’re such a baby. I’ll take you for wings after.”
“Sold.”
Mrs. P fished out a few takeout menus from a drawer next to the fridge and placed a twenty-dollar bill on top of them. “Order what you guys want for dinner. Okay?”
“Okay!” Kieran and Riya replied in unison.
***
“Look at this,” Mrs. P held up the newspaper as she walked into the kitchen. “You made the front page.”
Kieran peeked his head out from inside the refrigerator and turned toward Mrs. P’s voice.
“What are you looking for in there?” Mrs. P handed him the paper.
She was right. There he was. The picture that was taken of him and Ryan was front and centre, under the headline “Local Hero.”
Kieran placed the newspaper on the countertop. He didn't need to read about it. He experienced it. Riya snatched up the paper and sauntered back to the pantry.
“I was looking for the leftover pizza from last night,” Kieran responded to Mrs. P’s question. “We were going to pack it for lunch today.”
“I thought Thursday is macaroni day in the school cafeteria. Isn’t that everyone’s favourite?” Mrs. P looked into the fridge. She pushed one container to the side and reached further back on the shelf.
“It is. But we like pizza better,” Kieran explained.
Another lie.
“I’m actually getting a little tired of the macaroni. And there’s always such a huge line, it wastes half the lunc
h hour,” Riya added, balancing two water bottles in one arm and the newspaper in the other.
“Well, enjoy then.” Mrs. P handed Kieran a tinfoil package that contained the pizza slices, and he popped it into his backpack.
“Gotta run. Don’t want to be late.” Kieran and Riya both hightailed it out of there.
“Don’t you want to read what they wrote?” Mrs. P called from the screen door.
“We’ll read it on the way,” Kieran called back.
***
“I hate lying to her,” Kieran said, as they turned off their street and headed in the direction of the school.
“It wasn’t a lie. It was just an omission of the full truth,” Riya smirked. Kieran glared back at her.
“What else do you suggest we could have said?” Riya asked rhetorically and then continued. “We’re not in the mood for it today because we would rather not be violently ill…You see, Mrs. P, Kieran had a dream last night that everyone at school got sick from the macaroni that will be served today. He’s been having dreams like this for weeks now. Dreams that come true the next day. We think that maybe he’s psychic or something—we don’t know for sure. But we do know that we don’t want to be vomiting out of both ends later, so we aren’t taking any chances…Would that have been better?”
Kieran sighed, letting his shoulders sag. “No, it wouldn’t have. I get it. I’m the one who made you promise not to tell anyone.” But the guilt still crept in, twisting at his insides.
Riya and Kieran arrived at the school office at the start of lunch hour with a forged note from Mrs. P—yet another transgression—explaining that they had to leave for a doctor’s appointment, and they would be back by fifth period. Riya was very resourceful like that. They thought it better that they not be two of the few not having macaroni that day—especially since it was a known favourite of theirs. How suspicious it would be if, the day everyone got sick, they, “weren’t in the mood for macaroni.”
Volume 1: Bailex, #1 Page 5