by Cheree Alsop
Marek shook his head. “No, thank you. I don’t live far, and I’ve intruded on your hospitality long enough.” He ruffled Rosie’s hair in passing to set his plates in the sink. “Do you need help cleaning up?”
“Oh, no,” Mom replied. “I’ve got it. Don’t you worry about a thing, dear.”
Dad’s eyebrows rose, and I knew he was surprised that any boy would offer to clean up at someone else’s house. “It was nice to have you over,” he said. He held out a hand and Marek shook it with his bandaged one. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Marek replied. “Later, dude,” he said with a nod at Kip.
“See you tomorrow,” Kip replied.
Marek bent down and patted Fellow on the head. The little dog licked his fingers, but didn’t jump all over him as he would have with the same attention from any other stranger. He smiled at me last. “Thanks for having me over.”
“Thanks for coming,” I replied, relieved and amazed that the night had gone so well. “We’ll see you tomorrow?”
He nodded again with his genuine smile. “I’ll be here.”
“Are you sure you don’t need a lift home?” Mom pressed.
“No, thank you. I really do live close by.” He opened the front door, then turned back to wave at Rosie through the doorway to the family room. “Besides, I like the rain. Goodnight, March family. Thank you for a wonderful evening.” After our answering goodnights, he shut the front door.
Mom glanced out the window. “It’s not raining,” she said.
At that moment, thunder rumbled so loud the water in my cup moved. Rain began to pour, first in a trickle, then in steady sheets.
“Well,” Dad replied with a satisfied smile, “I like the boy. He knows how to make an exit.” Everyone laughed and began to help clearing plates.
Chapter 10- Marek
I waited at the corner of the house for a moment, but by the scent the storm was definitely not going to let up anytime soon. I ducked against the cold drops and stepped into the downpour. My worn sneakers quickly soaked up the water. I took off my shoes and slung them over my shoulder, enjoying the way the wet grass felt beneath my bare feet. I entered the shelter of the trees and the rain eased slightly until the wind brushed against the branches to send a downpour of drops on my head.
I leaned against the ladder and waited for my energy to return so I could climb up to bed. Animals disappeared into their dens and nests to wait out the storm. An enterprising owl called overhead, hoping to pick up a creature distracted by the rain. I climbed the ladder slowly and entered the comfortable darkness of the tree house.
The minute splash of water droplets pattered along the wooden floor and the blankets on the bed. I redirected most of the rain back outside with odds and ends around the tree house, then used one of the blankets to dry my skin and clothes the best I could. Chills ran through my body from the low fever that seemed reluctant to go away.
I wrapped another blanket around my shoulders, then sank onto one of the chairs by the table and watched the storm. Lightning illuminated the trees and tumultuous clouds shaded in black and gray. Memories that weren’t mine rose unbidden to my thoughts. I saw a different forest, evergreens amid large boulders, stalwart bushes, and the ground covered in pine needles and fallen leaves. The sharp, woody scent told of deer in hidden meadows, wild turkeys in low branches, and wolves who had traveled the same path many times.
My paws touched the forest floor with a quiet cadence that was nearly soundless amid the carpet of leaves. I felt sure of my surroundings, protected beneath the familiar trees, and excited to reach the end of my run. A low sound cut through the moonlit night, the clear, solemn, soul-carrying howl of a wolf. My heartbeat quickened and filled with joy.
I stopped near a brook that babbled merrily between rocks and fallen branches and lifted my head. An answer rose from deep in my chest, bringing with it all the contentment, happiness, and comfort I felt in the midnight forest. My howl mingled with the first, and soon other voices joined us, voices so familiar my body rang with the rightness of it all. I lowered my head and loped through the trees, eager to go home.
I rubbed my eyes with one hand and let the memory fade. They crept up on me in quiet moments when my guard was down. Usually I chased them away, but it had been nice for a moment to feel something, even something that wasn’t my own to feel. I wanted to answer the howl that wasn’t meant for me. My limbs ached for me to shift so I could find the forest again, a forest I had never been to. I thought of my home, or what had become my home, and felt the same longing run through my body. I hoped the others were alright.
Chapter 11- Kyla
I waited until eleven o’clock that night and made sure my parents were asleep before I left the house. I pulled my parka close against the driving rain, carrying a couple of garbage bags underneath. It had been years since I was in the tree house during a rain storm, and I could only imagine the number of leaks Marek might be dealing with.
A flash of lightening illuminated the black opening in the wood panels above as my flashlight beam found the ladder. I hesitated with my foot on the first rung; memories from the night before crowded into my mind. I began to second-guess my decision to come back at night.
“It’s okay,” Marek said from above. “I promise not to bite you.”
My face turned bright red and I was glad he couldn’t see it. “I’m on my way up,” I replied. I fumbled with the garbage bags for a moment to let my cheeks cool, then climbed up the ladder.
Marek was sitting next to the window, his profile illuminated by the next flash of lightening. He turned and gave me a warm smile. “A better reception than last time, huh? I feel horrible about that.” He rose to help with the garbage bags.
“It’s okay,” I replied. I made myself comfortable on the other chair and glanced around. There were surprisingly few drips. The main one, formed above the blankets on Marek’s bed, had been systematically diverted with a cup, a couple of plastic spoons tied together, and a grocery sack pulled flat like a ramp to send the rain out the window.
“Very crafty,” I said with a grin.
Marek shrugged. “It’s better than sleeping on wet blankets.” He nodded at the garbage bags. “Those’ll do better, I suppose, but mine’s got a nice sound to it.”
I listened for a moment to the small trickle of water as it made its way down the obstacle course and had to agree. “Yes, I prefer it your way, too.”
He smiled and sat back down at the table. “Your family is splendid.”
“Well, they sure like you. Now they’ll expect all the boys I bring home to be as charming.”
Marek’s eyebrows rose. “You find me charming?”
My cheeks felt hot again. I fumbled over my words, then gave up. “You relate well to strangers.”
Marek studied the table. “As first impressions go, I did better with them than I did with you.” He grew serious. “Actually, public relations are very important in what I do.”
Intrigued, I sat forward. “What exactly do you do?”
“I’ll show you on Saturday, but it might not be what you’re expecting.” He studied me, his blue eyes calm and serious. “I’m not part of a circus, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I blushed for the third time and kicked myself mentally for being so easy to read.
Marek continued, “I do know a few Shifters who have found a comfortable living that way, and acceptance.” He gave a small sigh. “I try to tell them that it’s just members of one freak show paying to see members of another.” He met my stare, his gaze frank and direct. “We’re all in this together, you know? Deep down, we’re all the same.”
I looked out the window at the falling rain. I thought about how many times I had been made fun of for reading or for being on good terms with my teachers. I thought of the junkies and the jocks, how they never quarreled openly, but hated each other just the same. How would it be if everyone could see the world through Marek’s eyes? And he was more di
fferent than anyone I had ever met.
I turned back and found him watching me. I dropped my eyes and rose from the table. “I’d better go. I have a test in the morning.”
“Kyla.” His tone was different. I turned around slowly.
“You put yourself and your family in danger to help me. You’ve done so much, first saving my life, then giving me a place to sleep and inviting me in to meet your family.” He rose from his chair with a hand holding his side and turned to stare out the window.
I realized then that he hadn’t made a single gesture at my house to remind me of his injury. He had hidden it from us so well even I had forgotten about it. Somehow, now, it made me feel better that he didn’t feel he had to hide it from me, that he trusted me enough to show weakness.
He continued quietly, “If you ask me to, I’ll leave right now. My presence puts your family in constant danger of the Falconans.”
“They couldn’t hurt us. By law, they protect us,” I said, but the second they left my mouth, I doubted my words.
“Don’t be fooled by them.” Marek looked up at the dark, pouring clouds. “Most of them don’t have a conscience. Their captains are their law. If told to do so, they would tear your house down around your family without a second’s hesitation.” His brow creased. “I don’t want to bring that here.” Silence filled the small tree house. He seemed almost resigned, as if he expected me to send him away.
“Stay,” I said firmly. “I won’t turn you out there with those monsters. Look at what they did to you.” He glanced back at me, his eyes unreadable. “I want to help however I can.”
He studied his bandaged hand, and I could see that his thoughts were racing. “I should go. . . .”
“You promised my brother you’d be there tomorrow,” I reminded him.
He smiled despite his concerns and looked at me. “I guess I can’t break a promise, can I?”
I shook my head, an answering smile on my face. “I’ll see you back here when I return from the clinic tomorrow. I’ve got to help Dad out for a bit or he’ll think something’s wrong.”
Marek nodded. “I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”
Chapter 12 –Marek
I listened to Kyla’s family leave in their cars the next morning, then climbed carefully down the ladder. I wandered through the extraordinary forest and followed my nose to an apple tree. The apples were small and red with thick skin and the sweetest centers I had ever tasted. I took three and ate them at the base of Kyla’s tree. The ground around the trunk was worn; it was easy to see how much time she spent in the branches. I found myself envying her for her free time and the easy ability to enjoy hours alone immersed in a good book.
Her kind eyes and beautiful face appeared in my mind, wiping the envy from my soul. She deserved every moment of peace and freedom, every second of happiness. I clenched my fist to flex the bandages around my hand; the thought of Kyla’s soft touch sent a small tremor through my skin. She gave without thought of getting back, something so rare in the world.
Her scent of ink and paper, Mrs. March’s cooking, her beloved forest, the raspberry scent of her shampoo, and the antiseptic and animal smell of the clinic came from the tree as though they belonged to each other. I closed my eyes and breathed it in, then chastised myself for my foolishness. She could do much, much better than me, and the sooner she went about it, the safer for her.
I rose slowly and walked back to the tree house. The sun bathed my face between flashes of shadow from the trees above. I was about to climb the ladder when the glint of something small amid the grass caught my eye. I bent gingerly and picked up a small red pocketknife. The memory of Kyla holding it at the clinic and then the other night when I scared her swept through my mind. I put a hand on the ladder, but a strange feeling kept me from climbing up. I turned and walked quickly through the trees.
Chapter 13-Kyla
Friday went by even faster than Thursday. I found myself struggling to concentrate as my teachers droned on about College Algebra, Life Science, Home Economics, American History, and other subjects I found just didn’t apply to my current train of thought. I worried about everything, hoping things would go well that night, that Marek’s wounds were healing, and how my family would react if they ever found out that he was a Shifter. Most of all, I wondered where we would be going on Saturday and what it was Marek did that was so important he couldn’t allow himself to rest and recover any longer.
Mr. Flinn stopped me on my way out of American History. “How is he?” the professor asked eagerly.
Caught off guard, I dropped my book from where I was trying to cram it in my backpack. “Who?” I asked, bending down to retrieve it.
“The Shifter!” Mr. Flinn said, obviously trying to contain his enthusiasm.
I glanced around. No one was near. “Better, a lot better.”
Mr. Flinn nodded. “Good to hear. You take good care of him and let me know if you need anything okay?”
I couldn’t help but smile at his overwhelming cheer. “I’ll let you know. Thanks, Mr. Flinn.”
Seventh period came and went without anything even remotely related to Home Economics sinking in. I slung my backpack over one shoulder and threw the books I didn’t need into my locker. Before I knew it, I had crossed the first parking lot and the junkie lot by the abandoned grocery store and was making my way through the small alley that led to the other school parking lot.
I hurried faster, suddenly aware of where I was. Was that the scuff of a shoe behind me? I didn’t dare look. I was about to make a run for the dusky sunlight at the end of the alley when a hand grabbed my backpack and spun me around.
“What do we have here?” It was a man who spoke, not one of the teenage dropouts from the junkie lot.
I slipped out of my backpack straps and backed up slowly. A footstep told me that way was blocked as well. I stopped and glanced behind me. Two more, one a grown man and another a teen who looked scared to be there but couldn’t think of a way out without looking like a coward, blocked the way to the second lot.
“There’s nowhere to run.”
My heart pounded in my throat. I looked up at the man, then wished I hadn’t. He wore a dark, greasy coat that was torn and smelled as if it had been fished out of a sewer. The man’s head was shaved and tattooed, but he wasn’t muscular like I would have expected from the depths of his voice. He was skinny and had a cruel gleam in his eyes as if he was watching a bug squirm under the piercing glare of a magnifying glass and enjoyed it.
He snapped a finger and two more men made their way up the alley from the junkie lot. They looked tough and worn. I guessed them to be AWOL soldiers who’d had enough of guarding the borders. The replacement of the Falconans and the shaky economy had put many men in the same position. Now, it seemed, it was time to take what they wanted.
I started to shake. I reached in my pocket, but the knife wasn’t there. I had forgotten to look for it at the tree house last night. Somehow, the tiny blade always seemed like protection, if a flimsy one. Without it, I didn’t stand a chance. With it, I probably wouldn’t either, but at least it gave me something to hide behind.
My knees felt like butter and I tried to keep still despite a pit in my stomach that made me feel like I was about to throw up. Footsteps. They were coming closer. I backed up to the alley wall and tried to sink into it, to be anywhere but here. I couldn’t look at them. I wanted to scream, but knew that no one who cared could hear me.
A hand touched my arm and I shrank away. “Come on now, sweetie. We won’t hurt you. Much.” A cruel laugh sounded, followed by others. One, though, ended in a choking scream. A low rumble and cursing filled the alley.
I looked up just as the man by the second lot crashed into the alley wall and collapsed to the ground. The skinny man next to me swore and ran toward the attacker, a knife held out. Marek stepped swiftly to the side and spun, catching the man and hurling him into the dirt with his momentum.
The two men from the other side both
rushed at Marek. He ducked the first one’s punch and spun as he dropped, kicking the man behind the legs and lay him flat on his back. A quick fist to the jaw silenced him.
The skinny man rose as Marek blocked a series of punches from the other man. Marek jumped back when the man pulled out a butterfly knife and flipped it open. The two men advanced on him, knives drawn. I could only watch, stunned, as Marek dodged a thrust, then disarmed the skinny man with a quick snap of his wrist that sent the man whimpering to the ground holding his arm to his chest.
The second man tried to catch Marek off guard with a slice at his stomach. Marek darted to the side and kicked high to send the knife flying. The man then dove at him and they both tumbled to the ground. Before I could think of anything to do, Marek was back on his feet with a knee in the man’s back and his arms around the man’s neck. He started to squeeze, his jaw clenched and eyes golden. The man’s struggling slowed as he fought for breath. Marek glanced up and caught my eyes.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. He slowly released his hold and backed up. The man lay there gasping, smart enough not to move. Marek rose and walked toward me, his eyes changing from gold to blue as he drew near. He knelt next to me, his eyes stormy with concern. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
I wanted to answer, but couldn’t make my voice work past the knot in my throat. If he hadn’t been there. . . . A chill ran down my spine and I felt tears slide down my cheeks.
“Kyla,” Marek said quietly. I buried my head against his shoulder and sobbed, suddenly afraid of everything but him. “It’s okay to cry,” he whispered. He smoothed my hair and I could feel the bandages on his right hand catching the knots. His heart beat quickly under my ear. The sound of it comforted me and slowed my tears. “You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said. His voice was gentle and calm as if he spoke to a frightened animal.
The thought of an animal reminded me of Dad. I sat up. “Dad’s going to be worried about me. I’m late to the clinic.”