Earth/Sky (Earth/Sky Trilogy) Read online

  I flushed. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll write about that, and I won’t read it out loud. It’s something you’d prefer to keep private.”

  He’d done it again, seen something in my story that I hadn’t spoken. “How do you know that?”

  “I’m good at people. And bad at keeping my lunch in its bag. You can write about that.” Then he smiled and my heart skipped a beat. Why was this gorgeous guy at Spooner High School? He should have been in the movies. We got to work on our assignments in a companionable quiet. I wouldn’t read his story out loud either for people to mock. I’d dropped my ninth grade science textbook on an overripe peach. Thankfully, that had happened at home without any witnesses.

  In ten minutes, Mr. Rogers called for volunteers to read their stories. Hands darted up from eager writers, who read short vignettes of hitting a deer on the road, camping at the reservoir, and having cavities filled at the dentist. We clapped politely after each one. Then we were set to corrections, trading our papers with our partners to have them circle misspellings and fix punctuation. Adriel and I were done in seconds, neither having found a single mistake. He had written a sweet story about being excited about his parents going on the cruise but worried that he was going to miss them.

  “Why were you in Los Angeles?” I asked quietly while the rest of the class worked studiously and the teacher wrote common misspellings on the board.

  “I’ve been all over California,” Adriel said.

  “With your family?” I asked. That was dumb. Did I think that he had gone by himself? Of course it was with his family.

  He overlooked my stupid question. “Yeah. Well, I live with my second cousin Drina and her family, so I travel with them. We’ve lived all over California and go sight-seeing, too.”

  “Is it rude to ask why you live with your cousin?”

  “Not when you ask like that. My parents died a long time ago, and I didn’t have living grandparents or any other close relatives.”

  “I’m sorry!” I said, not having meant to bring up a sensitive topic. “How did they die?”

  “An accident.” He didn’t elaborate, and I assumed it was a car crash. “I was six at the time, and I don’t remember them too well. Taurin and Drina had recently adopted two kids. That’s my older sister Kishi and my younger brother Cadmon. She’s at the junior college up in Hightree. So they just took me in as well.”

  I checked on the teacher, who was writing their/there/they’re on the board with the proper usages. “And Cadmon? Does he go here?”

  “He’s home. School is too much for him.”

  Wondering what that meant, I glanced out the window. Zakia was headed over the concrete, his eyes on the shaggy planters and a black trash bag over his shoulder. Something had changed very subtly in Adriel’s posture when I looked back to him. His shoulders now tense, his eyes flicked to Zakia and back to the paper. He skimmed it a second time for something to correct. Then he pushed it back to me. “You’re good in English.”

  Clipping sounded outside. “Yeah. It’s my strong subject.”

  “What are other mistakes you’re finding? Quick, the bell is about to ring!” Mr. Rogers called, his whiteboard pen at the ready to jot them down.

  “How do you spell disappear?” someone yelled over a multitude of voices. Mr. Rogers returned to the board and started scribbling.

  Spotting me through the window, Zakia tapped softly on the glass and grinned. I smiled. He was so tall that he didn’t even have to stretch to reach the planters dangling from the overhang. That kind of work would have had me panting and in a sweat, but he wasn’t showing the most remote strain.

  It didn’t sit well with me that I was in here learning while he was doing manual labor. I commented, “He should be in school.” Adriel didn’t answer. “He’s homeschooled. But don’t you think?”

  “No,” Adriel said shortly. Vines slithered down to the grass, which Zakia gathered up and moved out of the way.

  Was it possible for me to say anything that wasn’t stupid to this guy? I kicked myself internally. It sounded like his brother Cadmon was being homeschooled for severe emotional issues of some kind, so naturally Adriel wouldn’t see a problem with it. But that was the reason for homeschooling! It was something to do out of necessity. Zakia didn’t strike me as someone with problems like that, nor had his little sister Lotus.

  All of the sympathy in Adriel’s eyes from before was now replaced with tension. “How do you know him?” he asked.

  “I used to know his older brother Jaden. I just met Zakia yesterday.”

  Lips thinning, his eyes went back to the window. “You should stay away from him. From all of the Coopers.”

  Surprised, I said, “Why? They’re nice people.”

  “They’re not,” Adriel said, and the bell rang. He was out of his seat like a shot, backpack open on his shoulder and his binder tucked under his arm. Mr. Rogers called for everyone to drop the assignment in the basket on his desk. I stacked our papers together in confusion and packed up my things, watching through the window as Adriel strode away from the classroom.

  After placing the papers in the basket, I walked outside. I’d done it, survived my first day at Spooner High School. London and Savannah waved from the crush of people moving to the lockers. I waved back, thinking I should get their cell phone numbers before remembering where I was. Ugh! This was close to abusive. If they weren’t going to allow cell phones, why stop there? Why not get rid of washing machines and refrigerators and showers, too? We could all go back to the caves, which the people in charge of Spooner obviously believed was better. It made me wonder how long this city could continue to deny the inevitable in technological advancements.

  Nash yelled, “Goodbye!” and added my name in an enormous belch. I waved and thought about fighting with Grandpa Jack’s Internet connection just to send Taylor a message about that disgusting boy. No, I shouldn’t. It was awful to think of finally getting back home in June and everyone expecting me to act like the natives of Spooner who I had been describing for almost a year. Downy wouldn’t tolerate friends who detracted from her reputation, and Taylor told her everything.

  “Hey, Jessa! How are you doing?” Zakia called.

  “Not bad,” I said.

  He brought down a rain of vines and a sprinkle of dirt over his head. Coughing and wiping at his face, he said, “Not bad does not necessarily mean good.”

  “It means not bad,” I teased. “You should take a break. I haven’t seen you stop once.”

  “Have you been watching this whole time?” Zakia teased in return. The janitor called and Zakia tipped his clippers to his forehead as a goodbye.

  Since I couldn’t ride a scooter home in a dress that might fly up, I went to the girls’ restroom to change. I dawdled about the task in my stall, wanting as many students away from this campus by the time I emerged in my grungy sweats.

  This was the first day in the last seven years of my life that I hadn’t used my cell phone for anything. That was a weird feeling. The stalls around mine opened and shut repeatedly, with longer spaces stretching out between visits. I folded my dress and scarf and wrapped them carefully in the thin garment bag so that the backpack’s zipper wouldn’t snag the material when I pulled it up. Slipping into my sweatshirt, I checked the stain. Still there, revealing to the world that I ate my breakfast with all the finesse of a four-year-old. That was going in the wash the instant I got home.

  It grew quieter and quieter outside as I hopped on each foot in turn to change into my sneakers. Some grass was wedged into the tread of my sandals, which I picked out with toilet paper. Then I heard the jingle of keys and a man’s voice shouting, “Anyone in here? Locking up!”

  “I’ll be right out!” I called. Barely fifteen minutes had passed since the last bell! Jamming my nice shoes in my backpack as the keys continued to jingle by the door, I let myself out of the stall and washed my hands at the sink.

  There were still people around, although I didn�
�t recognize any of them. The library was open for another fifteen minutes, so I sped over to it and sat down at a carrel with a random book plucked from a shelf. Viking History. Why would anyone want to read that? I flipped through it in boredom, looking at pictures of runes and horned helmets, and set it on the carrel shelf for the librarian to put away. Deciding to get a little homework done, I plugged away at my assignments until the librarian called over the intercom that they were closing.

  The population coursing through the hallways had reduced from floods to trickles, and small, standing pools of students by the lockers. Careful not to look at them, I went to my locker. The parking lot was emptying fast. Every second I wasted trading books was another car turning at the stop sign onto the main road, one less pair of eyes to observe. I taped up a picture of Taylor, Downy, and myself to the inside of my locker door and dropped my science book inside since I’d finished the reading.

  If anyone had to witness my stripping in the orchestra room, at least it was a boy who had the decency not to spread it around for a laugh. That had been very lucky indeed. I glanced over my shoulder. None of the clutches of students contained Adriel, nor was he in the parking lot. I didn’t want him to see me like this. But eager to go home, I realized that I didn’t care about any of the others. Most of them looked like freshmen, they were focused on each other and not me, and it wasn’t like they were dressed that well themselves. I walked down to my garish scooter, fit my backpack in the bucket and put on the helmet, and rode home.

  Chapter Three: The Party

  I settled into school more easily than I expected over the week, and I didn’t know if that reflected well on the students of Spooner High or badly on me. School here was divided into roughly the same categories as Bellangame. The cool crowd encompassed several interlocked circles and London was the leader of one that ranked somewhere in the middle. The band kids hung out together, as did the skaters and the newspaper kids, and the proctor was always on the tail of the latest hot spot for drug activity among the losers. An assorted variety of suck-ups, sporty types, hippies, and nerds rounded out the community of less than a thousand. It was just a school, lower on the economic scale than Bellangame and far less fashionable, but still a school.

  Adriel had been absent since Monday, which interested no one but me. I finally asked Savannah at Thursday’s lunch period where he was. London didn’t hear, engaged in talking to the boys. They had stopped acting like apes by the second day of school. Pushing her hair over her shoulder, Savannah said, “Oh, it’s probably nothing. His younger brother Cadmon is really troubled and practically mute. He sometimes has fits and runs away, the whole family going out into the redwoods to find him. Adriel misses a few days every month or so for that.”

  “Shouldn’t we help?” I said in alarm. “Like form search parties?”

  “Oh, no, Cadmon won’t come to anyone but his family. He’ll deliberately hide from search parties, so his parents told the cops to not waste resources on it. My dad’s an officer, and he totally agrees. Cadmon doesn’t want to be found and he’s always fine out there, eating berries, drinking from the river, wearing his jacket.” Savannah made a face. “It’s such a waste! He’s like the crazy relative bumping around in the Graystone attic. Cadmon is absolutely beautiful. He’s going to be such a heartbreaker in a few years. When Adriel’s absent, and their sister Kishi last year when she went here, it’s usually because Cadmon ran away again. Occasionally they take him to specialists elsewhere in the country and the whole family goes along as a little vacation.”

  “How old is he?” I asked, just in case she suspected that it was Adriel I was more interested in.

  “Twelve?” Savannah shrugged. “I’m not sure. Adriel doesn’t talk about Cadmon much. Neither did Kishi. We just try to be polite and not bring up the subject. How do you know about him?”

  “Adriel told me.”

  She looked me over piercingly. “Well, he must like you.”

  All of my efforts to turn the conversation away from that were backfiring. I tried again. “That must be scary for the two of them, having a brother who does that.”

  Distracted, Savannah said, “Yeah. I’ve only seen Cadmon once. They brought him to an orchestra performance last year. He loves music. I could see him from the stage. He fussed in the seat until we started playing, and then he was totally still until it stopped. They had to escort him out the back entrance afterwards to keep him from getting too stressed. A lot of people make him panic.” Smiling wickedly, she nudged my arm. “So, do you like him? Adriel?”

  Turning back from the boys, London said, “Everyone likes Adriel, but he doesn’t like anyone that way.”

  “I think Jessa likes him especial,” Savannah teased.

  “Hey, who doesn’t like a school full of handsome guys?” I bluffed, giving a winning smile to the boys. “Even these three are almost cute when they stop belching.”

  “So, you ladies want to go to the reservoir Friday after school?” Nash asked. He blew his long bangs out of his eyes. “Everyone’s going to blow off first-week steam with a party.”

  “Sure!” Savannah enthused. London nodded.

  “I don’t know,” I answered, wanting some time alone, but Savannah tugged on my arm and said, “Come on! We’ll get a fire going and play some music. It’s not what you’re used to in L.A., but it’s all we have around Spooner.”

  Ugh, I thought. Declining this invitation would make me look conceited. I had a group of new friends who thought I was okay for some reason, and I didn’t want to alienate them. That decided it. “Okay. Where’s the reservoir?”

  “Out in the Gap,” Savannah said. “Just get on Jacobo and go north to Sutter, then west for a little while until you see the big drop down to the Gap. Then you just stay on that road. You can’t possibly miss the campgrounds.”

  I didn’t have the best sense of direction. In fact, I had no sense of direction whatsoever, which was why I had kept the map of the school with me out of reflex. “I could. Should I bring something? I don’t want to stick out.”

  “Just grab something from the store, chips or soda, a pack of weenies,” London suggested.

  “Oh, we’ve got the weenies,” Nash said. The girls grimaced and the boys laughed uproariously.

  That night, my parents called. I choked down how I was really feeling to be enthusiastic for them. They sounded so excited and yet relaxed, not having the stress of traffic or grouchy bosses hanging over their heads. Grandpa Jack rattled around in the kitchen while I talked on the rotary phone to Dad and then Mom, who said, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  What could I say? Even if this place was a total nightmare, my parents couldn’t do anything about it. And it was only a semi-nightmare. Being popular for hailing from Los Angeles helped, and very few of the students appeared to come from families making much more than mine. I said in a strong and reassuring voice, “I’m okay, Mom. I’m glad you guys are having such a good time.” Oh, how I wanted to be with them! Floating between the big blue sky and the big blue sea. When Mom came back talking about Machu Picchu, I’d only be able to return with the burping buddies.

  “And how’s your Grandpa Jack?” Mom asked.

  “He’s fine, too,” I replied. If that disco fish hadn’t been a memento from his late wife, I would have hurled it from a window by now. We didn’t have much to say to one another, Grandpa Jack and me, which made dinner uncomfortable when he muted the commercials. Fortunately, meals never lasted beyond two commercial breaks. He needed to branch out his diet. It consisted of beans and franks, bacon and eggs, hamburgers and fries, and macaroni and cheese. I was getting hungry for vegetables, but when I suggested adding Brussels sprouts to the menu, he said with approval that Gary’s Diner on the north end of Jacobo deep-fried them. Figuring this was a fairly unemotional and therefore harmless avenue of chat, I added, “Grandpa Jack thinks vegetables should be deep-fried.”

  “Brings out their flavor,” Grandpa Jack rumbled from the other room.

/>   “Oh, honey!” Mom said. “Pick up some greens and things at the store, for heaven’s sake! Tell your grandfather it won’t kill him to eat a carrot.”

  “Mom says it won’t kill you to eat a carrot,” I called.

  “It just might,” Grandpa Jack mused.

  I talked to my parents for a while longer about school, and then they had to catch a bus to a museum. With cheery goodbyes, they hung up. I settled onto the love seat and watched the local news with Grandpa Jack. Small places had small stories, so once the world and national updates were over, it centered on rustic flavors of the Chamber of Commerce Volunteer of the Year award, a drug bust in someone’s house, a hotel getting a permit, and a new class on mushroom identification hosted by the Spooner’s Grand Garden Club.

  “Lotus Cooper should teach that, if she honestly does know everything that grows in this area like you said,” I commented.

  “Thought you said that she should be in school making friends and giggling about boys,” Grandpa Jack replied. I glared at the television, having meant it as a compliment and not to start an argument that I was right about anyway. Zakia was often out and about when I sat in my afternoon classes, clipping and trimming, emptying a planter with a rotted bottom and rolling it away. That was what the red X indicated, planters that were damaged beyond repair and had to be removed. The guy never broke a sweat! I was tired just from watching his exertions out the windows.

  It was sad to think of all the high school experiences he was missing out on. That wasn’t fair. This wasn’t the third world. Thinking I should extend the invitation to the party at the reservoir if I saw him tomorrow, I ducked the fish on the way upstairs and went to bed. Without the patience to fight with the Internet, without a cell phone to connect me to humanity, I was going to bed earlier and earlier. Maybe I could just hibernate until June.