This Town Is Not All Right

by M. K. Krys

  “Sheriff Nugent,” he said. There was a long pause, then: “What? Are you sure? Well . . . that is certainly surprising, but I’m glad to hear it. Thank you. We’ll see you at church on Sunday. Bye now.” He ended the call.

  “That was Deputy Raycroft,” Sheriff Nugent said, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “He was just at the Middleton residence.”

  Beacon sat up.

  “Jane is in bed sleeping. Just like she has been all night.”

  4

  “B-but that’s impossible,” Beacon said.

  “Robert saw her for himself.” The sheriff slapped on his cap, as if he was getting ready to leave.

  “No,” Beacon said firmly, standing up. “It was Jane. I saw her Gold Stars jacket. She looked right at me.”

  “Tell us what happened again,” the second officer said.

  Beacon recounted the story, making sure not to leave out any details. But this time, the sheriff’s eyes narrowed as Beacon spoke, and he and the deputy exchanged a knowing look.

  “You say she heard you gasp, all the way from in your bedroom? Over the wind and rain and waves, and through a couple inches of window glass to boot?” the sheriff said.

  Beacon felt himself shrink. “I know how it sounds.”

  “Listen,” their dad said. “It’s late, you’re in a new place—I’ll bet the house was making all sorts of weird sounds, right? You probably had a bad dream.”

  “It was real,” Beacon insisted.

  “Maybe it was someone else you saw, then?” his dad suggested. “A different Gold Stars kid.” He looked at the sheriff.

  “We’ll find out soon enough if that’s the case,” the sheriff said. Although, it was clear he didn’t think that would happen.

  “We’ll have a deputy check missing persons until we can get back out tomorrow,” Deputy Steele said.

  “Bless you, officers,” Donna said.

  “Sorry about the disturbance,” his dad added, flitting a glance Beacon’s way.

  They were acting as if he wasn’t even there. Acting like he was stupid. Nobody believed him. But he’d been wide-awake when he heard that scream.

  “There was someone out there!” Beacon cried.

  Everyone was looking at him with the most infuriating pity all over their faces—everyone but the sheriff, who eyed him with something closer to contempt.

  Beacon stormed out of the room. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard his dad say, “I’m sorry, this isn’t like him. His brother died recently.”

  Fury swelled inside him.

  Ever since Jasper died, it seemed like all of Beacon’s behaviors were automatically attributed to grief. Fight with Everleigh? “Anger is a normal stage of grief.” Bad mood? “It’s normal to feel depressed after losing a loved one.”

  It made Beacon want to scream.

  Wasn’t he allowed to have any legitimate feelings anymore, without having everyone making it all about his “trauma”?

  He stomped up the stairs into his new attic bedroom and flopped down onto the bed. He was confused and angry and humiliated, and he just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

  There was a creak behind him. He glanced up to see Everleigh poking her head through the hole in the floor.

  “Go away,” he said before burying his face back in the mattress. But of course, his sister didn’t listen. She crossed the room and dropped heavily onto the end of his bed. Beacon jammed a pillow over his head so that she wouldn’t see the tears threatening his lashes.

  “Get it over with,” he said gruffly. “I’m an idiot, a wimp, a liar.”

  He felt a hand clamp onto his shoulder.

  “I believe you.”

  “Very funny,” Beacon mumbled angrily.

  “I’m not joking,” Everleigh said. “I don’t know what happened, but I know you. You’re not a liar, and I don’t think you imagined it.”

  Beacon rolled over and sat up. He waited for his sister to burst out laughing and say “Gotcha!” But she didn’t.

  “So what now?” Beacon said.

  Everleigh shrugged, a whole-body gesture. “Now we go to bed.”

  “But someone’s out there, and no one’s helping. Maybe it’s not Jane—I guess it’s possible it was someone else—but it was a person out there.”

  “If someone was out there, they’re already dead,” Everleigh said.

  The words were a sucker punch to his gut, but it was true. It only took minutes without oxygen for someone to start losing brain function. Ten minutes and they’d be dead. He knew this better than anyone. But still. It didn’t seem right. Just going to bed when someone was floating in the ocean.

  “They’ll find whoever it is soon enough,” Everleigh said. “We just have to be patient.”

  It was too bad patience wasn’t Beacon’s strong suit.

  * * *

  ...............................

  The next morning, Beacon awoke to the smell of coffee and fried eggs. Bright sunshine slanted across his comforter, making the attic bedroom look warm and cozy and inviting, and not at all like a horror movie waiting to happen. Last night seemed very far away.

  He heard clattering and the murmur of voices coming from the kitchen, so he pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and climbed downstairs. Everything was so bright and weird and different that for a moment, he half expected to see his brother standing at the stove, plucking eggs directly out of the frying pan while his dad pretended to be annoyed and swatted him away. Jasper could get away with anything. It was impossible to be mad at him.

  Beacon walked into the kitchen, but of course, his brother wasn’t there. Donna pushed eggs around a sputtering skillet, while his dad sat at the table and stared at a newspaper called the Seagazer, which he assumed was Driftwood Harbor’s version of the L.A. Times. Beacon took a seat across from him, but his dad didn’t look up. He’d probably been staring at the same page for the last ten minutes, if history was any indication.

  His dad thought he had Beacon fooled with his twitchy smiles and positive attitude, but Beacon knew that he still kept Jasper’s cell phone in service more than a year after his death, just so he could hear his voice on the voice mail. Beacon saw him lying on Jasper’s bed late at night when he thought no one else was awake. He saw the keys left in the refrigerator, heard the grocery clerk calling after them that they had forgotten to pay. He saw the school recede in the rearview mirror as his dad missed their stop for the millionth time, lost in thought. He was hurting, too. Probably as badly as Everleigh. Maybe worse.

  He guessed Driftwood Harbor wasn’t going to be everyone’s miracle cure after all.

  Outside the huge window, sunlight glistened off the clear blue water. The sea lapped gently against the rocky shore.

  “Morning,” Beacon said.

  His dad jolted. “Oh, hey, Beaks. Didn’t see you there.” He flashed Beacon a smile.

  “Shouldn’t the rescue crews be here already?” Beacon asked.

  His dad looked away and fiddled with the handle of his coffee cup. Beacon’s heart sank like a stone. He knew what his dad was going to say.

  “They’ve canceled the search.”

  “What about the girl?” Beacon said.

  “No one’s reported anyone missing.”

  “It’s a very small community,” Donna added from the stove. “If anyone were missing, we’d know about it by now.”

  “But . . . I know what I saw,” he said quietly. At least he thought he did. He’d been so sure last night, but maybe they were right. Maybe it was a dream.

  He tried to tell himself that it was good news that no one was missing, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

  “Hungry?” Donna asked without looking over.

  “Yes, please,” Beacon said. He fell into a seat across from his dad, who was already wear
ing a pressed black suit and a striped tie. If Beacon hadn’t seen him wearing regrettable pajamas last night, he would have wondered if he’d slept in the suit. He suspected his dad might be a tad bit overdressed for his new job. He couldn’t imagine anyone here wearing suits and ties to work, even if it was still a branch of the Centers for Disease Control, where he’d worked back in LA.

  Donna placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of each of them.

  “Oh,” his dad said, staring at his plate. There was a ring of black around the whites of the fried eggs, and the toast was charred so badly, Beacon was pretty sure he could use it as a weapon. By comparison, Beacon’s plate looked ready for close-ups.

  “Cooked it a bit long,” Donna said. She stared hard at his dad, as if daring him to complain.

  “That’s no problem,” his dad said. He forced a smile and picked up a piece of toast.

  “Thank you,” Beacon said. Donna gave a curt nod before she went back to work, banging dishes in the sink. Beacon pushed his food around the plate. All of the drama was sitting like a lead ball in his stomach. The thought of food made him a little sick.

  “Where’s Everleigh?” he asked after a while.

  “Went into town,” his dad said. He was using the edge of his fork to try to cut his eggs, but they just slid around the plate.

  “What? This early?” Beacon said.

  “She was up before sunrise. Said she wanted to check things out,” he said, gritting his teeth and sawing at his eggs with a steak knife.

  That didn’t sound like Everleigh at all. She routinely had to be pried out of bed with the Jaws of Life.

  Then Beacon remembered the car at the junkyard. She’d definitely gone down to Murray’s.

  That was just great. She’d be there all day.

  “I’m going to check out some houses today before work if you’d like to come along,” his dad offered.

  “You’re working already?”

  “Victor runs a tight ship. So are you going to come house hunting? I’ve just got to stop off at the post office and make a quick trip to the bank first.”

  Sounded riveting.

  “I think I’ll just play around on my board,” Beacon said.

  “You sure?” his dad asked, raising his brows.

  “Sure.”

  “Well, okay. School tomorrow,” he said.

  As if he’d somehow forgotten.

  Beacon was skeptical that there were enough kids in this town to form a school, let alone a single class. He would have to see it to believe it.

  He had a sudden, intense longing for his home in LA. For his friends and familiarity. But there was no use thinking about that. Home was all the way across the country, far out of reach. He was here now. He might as well make the best of it.

  Beacon found his skateboard in the trunk of the car. Just holding his old Habitat board, with its blue and white pinstripes and coiled serpent in the center, made him feel better. Beacon had been skateboarding since he was seven, and the board was almost as old. He’d gotten a handful of newer ones since then, for birthdays and Christmas, but this one was still his favorite. The perfect amount of concave and pop, and it somehow never wore out, no matter how hard he rode it.

  He did some ollies and kick flips in the driveway for a while, but then he got bored and decided to go find Everleigh.

  One good thing about living in such a puny town was that it was very easy to find your way around. He wouldn’t need to ask his dad for a ride anywhere, either, or brave public transit. That’s what he told himself as he rode down the empty, pitted roads. He didn’t bother keeping to the side. There was no point.

  It didn’t take him long to find the main square, which consisted of a handful of buildings that branched off into four different directions. He spotted a bright turquoise bait shop, a long and low grocery store made out of dark red brick, a yellow stucco diner with old-fashioned steel stools he could see through the big windows, and off in the distance, the towering stone church. Residents walked up and down the cobbled streets.

  It looked just like the postcards he’d found online before the move. Even though it was kind of charming, the idea that this was all there was made him a bit panicky. In LA, there was no shortage of things to do, exotic foods to try, and people to meet. It was as if the world had been reduced to black-and-white, when he’d been living in full color before.

  He followed the road that skirted along the pier until he reached Murray’s Auto Body.

  He ducked inside, blinking against the dust motes floating in the thin beams of light.

  “Out back,” a gruff voice said.

  Beacon scanned the room and found Mr. Murray flipping through a magazine with his oily boots up on the desk.

  “Okay, thanks,” Beacon said.

  He found Everleigh in the junkyard. Or, at least he found her torso. She was buried beneath the Mercury Cougar from her ribs up. The car was already a hundred times more impressive since his sister had gotten her hands on it. She’d washed off all the layers of dust and grime, and beneath it was a vibrant, teal-green muscle car that looked just like the ones old people buffed in their driveways but never actually drove.

  Beacon hopped onto the hood of an old Beetle next to the Cougar.

  “How’s it going?” he asked.

  “Awful,” Everleigh said without missing a beat. “Whoever owned this car probably never gave it a tune-up in his entire life.”

  “Or her entire life,” Beacon said.

  She rolled out from under the car. There was grease smeared under her eyes.

  “A girl wouldn’t be that dumb.” She got up and wiped her hands on her sweatpants.

  “Mr. Murray doesn’t mind you doing all this?” Beacon said, gesturing at the shiny car.

  She made a noise like psshh. “He’s lucky I offered. He’ll be able to sell this thing for over Bluebook once I’m done with it.”

  “Are you done with it?” he asked hopefully. “I was thinking we could explore the town. I saw a weird store called Tonkin’s Bait Shop and Antiques. There was a cat plate in the window.”

  “Not even close,” Everleigh said.

  Beacon’s shoulders dropped, even though he’d kind of known she was going to say that. “Can’t you take a break?”

  “I have way too much to do here. We start school tomorrow, so this might be my last chance to get lots of work in. It’s not easy refurbishing a car, you know.”

  Beacon sighed. He almost mentioned how she never went to school anyway, so he didn’t see why that mattered. But he could tell he wasn’t about to change her mind anytime soon, so he didn’t bother. The thought of checking out the bait shop by himself didn’t seem half as appealing.

  “Sorry, Beaks,” Everleigh said. “Check back in an hour.”

  “Great. Awesome.” Beacon hopped off the car, but he froze when he spotted a head of bright blond, almost white hair through a gap in the wire fence. His heart lodged in his throat. Jane weaved down the cobbled sidewalk with three other kids in Gold Stars jackets. Tinkling laughter floated on the breeze.

  “Where are you going?” Everleigh asked distantly as she watched him vault over the fence. But Beacon didn’t stop to answer his sister. He had to see her. He had to see for himself.

  Beacon raced up the sidewalk and grabbed Jane’s shoulder. She snapped around, yanking her arm away with the most affronted look on her face.

  “Do you mind?” she spat.

  Beacon opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stared at the girl and her perfect curled hair and expertly applied lip gloss. She didn’t look the least bit as if she’d been struggling for her life mere hours before.

  Jane stared back at him. Her bright blue eyes flared with anger.

  “What’s the problem out here?” Everleigh asked, jogging up.

  “What’s his problem?” Jane s
aid. “He practically attacked me!”

  A Gold Star with sleek black hair down to her chin nodded in agreement.

  “We should report him to the police,” the boy from yesterday with the wiry black curls—Nixon—said. Perry, the jockish one, started to pull out a phone, but Jane stayed him with a hand.

  “I-I’m sorry,” Beacon finally managed. “I thought . . .” His words trailed off. He didn’t really know what he’d thought. Jane was here. She was fine, and he was obviously wrong about what he’d seen in the ocean.

  “I know what you thought,” Jane said, crossing her arms. “Because I was woken up in the middle of the night by a sheriff’s deputy.”

  “Pardon me,” Everleigh said, without an ounce of apology in her tone. “The next time he sees someone drowning in the ocean he’ll just roll over and go back to bed.”

  “Your brother sees people who aren’t there all the time?” Jane said. “Maybe he should get that checked out.”

  Nixon bit off a snicker, while the rest of the Gold Stars just stared. Beacon wondered what had happened to their great manners. If only his dad could see them now.

  “Unless you have any other death hoaxes you’d like to accuse me of, we’d like to get back to our shopping,” Jane said. The four students turned around and walked away without so much as a backward glance at Beacon and Everleigh.

  “What a weirdo,” he heard Nixon mutter.

  A creeping, prickling heat climbed up Beacon’s cheeks. He watched their retreating backs, the blue-and-gold logo on their jackets shining dully in the pale afternoon sunlight. The same jacket he could have sworn he saw on Jane last night in the water.

  Everleigh put a hand on Beacon’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about them. They’re a bunch of small-minded losers. Come on. I’ll go to that bait shop with you.”

  “I know she was in the water,” Beacon said.

  When she didn’t answer, Beacon turned to his sister. Everleigh was pointedly not meeting his eyes.

  “What?” he said defensively.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “What happened to I believe you, and You’re not a liar?” Beacon demanded.