The Keystone: Finding Home

by Seren Goode

  Sliding out of the chair, I crouched down until I could barely see out the window and scanned both sides of the sidewalk in front of the shop. There was an overhang on my right and a marque for a mall entrance. Maybe that was where the side door led?

  I looked back at the white van. There was a scuffle as a third group came out of the glass doors. The woman was striking. Her hair, dyed a bright red, was mussed, and a jacket hanging in front covered her hands. She looked furious. The disheveled man and woman on either side stood a head taller than her, and they roughly pushed her into the same van. As soon as the doors closed, the van took off, tires squealing.

  A motion in my peripheral vision grabbed my attention. Two teens were fighting at the entrance of the mall. A boy about my age with curly hair and brown skin was restraining a younger boy who was trying to chase after the van. The curly-haired boy struggled to keep a hold without hurting the younger boy whose pale skin had flushed to match his red hair. I could see his face as he yelled the word “mom.” Both boys were looking toward the disappearing van.

  They were connected! Somehow, they knew the other people in the van with my dad. Maybe they knew what had happened, knew who those people in suits were. I bet they knew where they took my dad.

  One of the men left behind at the apartment pointed toward the teens at the mall entrance. Then he turned and pointed directly at me. For a second, I froze in panic and then dropped low so I could just see over the window.

  There was a burst of noise. The younger boy struggled free and, with a taunting glare at the people in suits, threw a skateboard on the ground and took off. Two men pursued.

  I didn’t have a second to spare. I had no idea why or where my dad was taken, but maybe the curly-haired boy knew. I had to get to him before the suits did.

  I bolted for the side door and had no time for relief as it pushed out into a brightly lit space with shops. I looked left toward the mall entrance; Curly Hair was still staring down the street after the redhead. Lunging forward, I grabbed a handful of his shirt, and backing up, I pulled him with me through the door and into the mall. He turned, his eyes angry and chest heaving.

  “Where did they take my dad?” I demanded.

  I caught his anguished look as he stared after the redhead. It changed to panic as a man raced by, chasing the boy on the skateboard.

  “Your mom was in the van with him. You know something.” I commanded his attention, and his eyes crinkled in suspicion.

  “Is your father, Noah?”

  How did he know my dad’s name? I was right. He did know something.

  Curly Hair pulled away, dragging me with him as I held on to his shirt.

  “Yes, Noah, that’s my father’s name. Tell me where they took him.”

  “No. If you want to get him back, follow me.” The boy yanked free of my grip and backed away.

  My heart was pounding, and my skin crawled with the urge to flee from all of this. I wanted to run after the van and pull my dad free, but I knew that couldn’t happen, or whoever had grabbed him would have me too. I didn’t know if I should follow Curly Hair, who was still walking backward toward the interior of the mall, his eyes as hard as yellow diamonds as they studied me.

  “I’m getting out of here. You can come with me,” he shrugged, “or don’t. Your choice.” He turned and raced up the escalator, taking the steps two at a time.

  I made my decision in a blink, no thought, just instinct. Ignoring the shouts behind me, I followed the curly-haired boy up the escalator.

  Chapter 2

  The Mall

  I once read that among the top ten of fears most people had, a fear of being left behind ranks near the top. I’d bet the fear of getting kidnapped ranks pretty high too.

  The curly-haired boy was fast and hard to follow. I focused all my attention on not losing sight of him as he dodged through the mall like a veteran shopaholic on Black Friday. Whirling through the late afternoon crowd, he raced up another escalator, his sneakers stomping on the steel treads. At the top, he dodged into a bath shop, and I followed. We exited out of the connecting lingerie store, silk jammies and cotton panties fluttering as we passed.

  We were in and out of three more smaller shops and made another floor change before we entered a large department store. I stayed with him as he zigzagged like a pro-quarterback. He scrambled around racks and down aisles until he came to a set of doors labeled “Employees Only” that swallowed him up. Racing up to the threshold, I hesitated, feeling the resistance that holds you back when you consciously bent a rule, even a small one. My heart pounding, I wiped sweat from my forehead.

  A hand reached out and yanked me through the doors. I yelped.

  Curly Hair shook his head at me, turned, and ran. We raced side-by-side down a fluorescent-lit corridor and a flight of stairs. The void of natural light ended as we burst through another set of swinging doors and back into the public section of the mall. Immediately, we were engulfed by jostling bargain shoppers and a cacophony of sounds.

  I was distracted, a little panicked, and a lot out of breath, which is why I didn’t see the stroller until it plowed into me.

  In a sprawl, I hit the ground. Hard. My knee slammed into the concrete floor, and pain radiated through my leg. Frantic, I grabbed the side of the rocking stroller to steady it. The hipster, juggling a paper cup and typing on his phone while he pushed it, glared at me and, dropping the coffee in the cupholder, yanked the stroller back. With my knee stinging from the impact, I pulled myself up and backed away, looking around at the gathered crowd. I recognized no one.

  I had lost him. Anxious, I spun in a circle and tried to think which way Curly Hair would have gone. We had zigzagged a lot, going up and down, trying to shake off the suits, but after we lost them, the general direction he had headed was down and away from where we had entered.

  I staggered to an escalator, holding myself up by the railing. At the bottom, I get caught up in a large group of teens leaving a store, their multicolored hair shining in the mall’s lights.

  Wading through, I stopped and spun, searching the crowd. My heart was pounding when I finally caught a glimpse of curly hair disappearing into a store.

  I had a moment of uncertainty as I remembered when I was seven and thought I was following my dad through the airport. It ended up being an older man with the same suitcase, which I didn’t realize until we were in line to board a flight to San Jose, Costa Rica instead of San Jose, California. I thought I had lost my dad forever and had cried for hours. I hoped this wasn’t a repeat.

  Crossing my fingers, I hobbled after him. It took a minute to adjust to the pain lancing my knee with every step. I kept moving, biting my lip as I put more weight on the knee and picked up speed. I paused in the fragrance section and sneezed. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of curly hair exiting a door. When I got there, the door was marked “Emergency Fire Exit Only.” I chewed on my lip, breathing hard. Had I imagined it? I braced for the shrill of an alarm as I hit the bar opening the door and charged out into a brick alley.

  I slammed hard into someone, our heads knocking together, causing my ears to ring.

  “Ow.” The curly haired boy rubbed his nose. I realized the impact was so hard because we were the same height. “What happened to you?”

  Joy flooded me. He had come back for me! I almost threw my arms around him. The thought of being lost had me skipping past the splash zone and heading into the deep end of the panic pool.

  Unsteady on my feet, I had a death grip on his shirt, wadding it up in a fist with one hand while I rubbed my aching head with the other. Add another bruise onto the count for the day. Gasping to catch my breath, I let go of his shirt and managed to get out, “Fell…hurt my knee.”

  The boy watched me limp and wobble alongside him for a minute before he put a tentative arm around my back to steady me. Tensing, I flushed and tried to ignore th
e tingles along where we touched. It felt awkward, different. The simple connection was alien, and I didn’t know how I was supposed to respond.

  When I didn’t pull away, he pulled me close to his side and grimaced. I couldn’t tell if the look was pain or disgust at the idea of touching me. My first instinct was to push his arm away. I could walk without his help. But he held tight, and I realized I could go faster if I leaned on him. As he dragged me around the back of the building, he grumbled and made faces every time I rubbed against his hard body.

  “This way.” His voice was gruff and our bodies were stiff. Our muscles clenched where we knocked together in an awkward three-legged race. I was about to give up and start hobbling again on my own when, somehow, we latched onto a rhythm that worked, and his face relaxed a little. Locked in at shoulder and hip, he helped me down the alley. It surprised me how natural our rhythm was when we were working together.

  I was still a little breathless from the running and the touching when I remembered to ask, “Who are you?”

  Of all the questions I had, this was I blurted.

  “Name’s Shim.” He glanced over but didn’t stop. It was an odd name.

  “I’m Grace.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Noah is your dad, and your mom was one of them. Amy, right?”

  I stiffened a little, wondering if this had been a mistake. “It’s pronounced Amé—how do you know my mom’s name? What do you mean ‘one of them’?”

  “One of the original five. She was the one that went missing, that started this whole mess.”

  “What are you talking about? My mom is dead. She died last year in a diving accident.” I wasn’t use to talking about my mom, and since Dad still wouldn’t say her name, there wasn’t much point in bringing her up.

  Shim glanced over at me, his face puzzled.

  “That’s not what I heard. My mom said Amé was taken. That’s why everyone’s been on code red.”

  “What?” My stomach had always worked like my mood meter, doing a pretty good job of telling me what I was feeling, and right now, the guppies in my stomach were fighting. I was pretty sure I was going to throw up. Hope can be a terrible thing, and as it mixed with the sorrow I’d felt since her death, it turned to frustration. I stopped walking and almost fell on my face as my knee buckled under me. Gripping Shim’s arm, I steadied myself. Was it possible? Was she still alive?

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know anything else about it, but maybe the others do.”

  “Others?” I asked, reminded that my mother’s death—disappearance—wasn’t the most pressing concern at this moment.

  “We are going to meet the twins and my brother.”

  I tucked that away to worry about later. “That was your mother, the woman in the van? Would she know who took my mom?” I thought of the short, Black woman with the bright-red hair and scowling face.

  “Yeah, her name’s Kindle. She doesn’t know where your mom is, but she’s one of the original five too. I bet you don’t know about them, or her, do you?”

  “Why would I know who your mother is? What’s the original five?”

  He had grimaced when I pulled on him for support, but otherwise, his face told me nothing. “Well, I know who your father is.” He ignored the rest of my question.

  “Yeah, how? How do you know my father’s name?” I realized I couldn’t do anything for my mother, but I might be able to help my dad.

  “Kindle told me. She was meeting your dad at Arie’s apartment. Arie is the twin’s father. The Suits got all three of them.” Shim shook his head, his lips pressed into an angry line.

  “Who were those people in suits?”

  “Don’t know. That’s what we have to figure out—fast. Come on, we are wasting time. The others are probably already at the meet-up.”

  I didn’t know what he was talking about, but anywhere further away from people chasing us seemed like a good idea.

  I wanted to ask him more questions, but he brushed off every attempt I made. I was still feeling a little wobbly and didn’t want to tick off the person that was practically carrying me, and no matter what, I couldn’t lose him. He had information I needed.

  As we stumbled along, I looked over at him. His mop of curly hair fell past his ears, and up close, I could see it was in an amalgam of colors from dark browns to light golds, way too pretty for such a rough-looking guy. He had high checks, a broad nose, and full lips. His features were kind of crooked, but that made his face more compelling. He glanced over and glared when he caught me staring. I tried to keep my eyes forward, but they drifted back to him. He was intense, with compact muscle and bold stares, and I struggled not to shiver when it was his turn to look me over. I knew what he saw: a gangly girl with pale skin; long, weird-colored hair; and sad, gray eyes. I’d been cataloged before. I wasn’t surprised when his nose wrinkled and one side of his mouth pulled up higher than the other. There was a tightness to his face. I felt a tinge of compassion and thought maybe he’d be more receptive to a question that wasn’t about our parents.

  “Who was the redhead?”

  Seconds ticked by before he answered, “My brother, Jaxon.”

  “Why didn’t he stick with you?”

  Shim scowled. “Because he is a pain in my ass, but he’s my responsibility.”

  Odd answer. But I didn’t have any siblings, so what did I know?

  Shim stopped and peered around the brick corner. “It’s clear.” He returned to help me, putting his arm around my shoulders again. “Lean into me so your limp doesn’t draw attention.” He snarled softly when I touched his side. I pulled back, but he jerked me to him again.

  With his support, I left the alley, and we merged into the late rush hour foot traffic, looking like any other couple on the street.

  I couldn’t help wondering if I was heading the wrong direction.

  Chapter 3

  The Waterfall

  The late afternoon summer sun reflected off acres of glass. I briefly closed my eyes, blinded as we pushed through the doors to the outside, leaving the Metreon theater and the cacophony of music and voices behind us.

  “Are we there yet?” I asked as Shim paused to get his bearings. I was stalling as I tested my knee out, eager to be independent of his awkward support.

  “Almost. They said to meet behind a waterfall. Ah, there.” Shim pointed with his chin.

  Right. The mysterious twins. Maybe they would provide more answers than the taciturn Shim. I glanced around. I’d never been in this park. At the center was a large waterfall it must have been twenty feet tall. Water raced over the edges of the granite cliff, creating multiple waterfalls, glistening in the setting sun and dropping into a large rectangular basin. A relaxed atmosphere surrounded the fountain. People were sitting on benches talking while pedestrians wove along the path. Shoppers lay in the grass next to their bags. An idyllic scene in contrast with the desperation of my situation.

  I hobbled stiffly beside Shim, along a path that led behind the waterfall. The roar of the waterfall drowned out the noise of the city and across the pool a quote from Martin Luther King, Jr was etched in bronze into the wall. As I read it, stray droplets of water wet my clothes, and mist cooled the hot skin on my neck and face.

  We rounded the corner to a covered walkway with etched glass panels on one side and the waterfall on the other. Two blond teens were sitting cross-legged on the floor directly behind the center of the waterfall. One gave Shim a chin lift in recognition, but his eyes narrowed on me tucked under Shim’s arm. Before he could say anything, footsteps sounded behind us, and the red-headed boy with the skateboard appeared around the waterfall.

  “Jaxon!” Shim lunged for his brother, pulling him into a hug. Jaxon grasped Shim close for a brief second, but the warm and fuzzy didn’t last long, and he pushed Shim away with a swear.

  “
What the Stars is going on? Who were those creeps who took Mom?” It surprised me to hear one of my mother’s favorite curse words coming out of Jaxon’s mouth. It wasn’t a common phrase. His face flushed, he glared at each of us, pausing briefly on me to spit out, “Who are you?” Then he moved on and fixed his gaze back on Shim. “Why did Mom go with them?” His voice rose to a shout.

  “Quiet! Someone will hear.” The twins made shushing motions, which increased Jaxon’s glare.

  “I don’t know—I don’t know what’s going on,” Shim stuttered as he paced the narrow space with angry steps. “Mom didn’t go with them willingly—she was cuffed.”

  “They all had zip ties on their wrists,” one of the twins said, both of their faces were crumpled in confusion, and I realized one twin was a boy and the other one, the one speaking so fast it was hard to follow, was a girl.

  My knee wasn’t going to hold me much longer, and as the twins seemed safer than the brothers, I slid down next to them, but not too close, and pushed my messenger bag under my sore knee. My jean-clad legs splayed out awkwardly, and I felt numb. I think I was in shock, and my body was carrying on instinctually with no real thought behind the actions. I so desperately wanted to demand answers, but I was learning more through listening.

  “Dad told us something might happen to him, but I never expected this.” The boy twin shook his head.

  “What do you mean he thought something would happen?” I stopped fussing with my bag and stared.

  “Who are you?” The twins asked at the same time, and everyone turned to me.

  Shim stopped his pacing and squatted on my other side. “Guys, this is Grace, Noah’s kid—and she knows less than we do.”

  “Hey!—no, well…” I started to protest, then stopped mid-sentence. I really didn’t know what was going on. Resigned, I mumbled, “I guess that’s true.”

  “The twins are Skylar and Breeze, or you can call her BZ. Arie is their dad, and everyone was meeting at his condo.” Shim continued the introductions like I hadn’t said anything. My eyes studied each of them. As if she was a bee, the girl twin positively vibrated at her name and the boy gave a toothy smile. If the models of Abercrombie & Fitch hooked up with the teens from the Gap ads, these would be their love children. The two had matching haircuts, blond bangs styled to the side over vivid blue eyes, and were dressed in identical short-sleeve button-up shirts in a shade of yellow probably called “lemon” or “sunshine,” and expensive-looking jeans. I tugged the hem of my faded tee over my old jeans.