Chapter 2

 

 

“Get your butt down here for dinner!” Uncle Marvin bellowed from the kitchen. He never just spoke, he only knew how to bellow. Sometimes I wondered if he was going deaf and nobody realized it.

I knew if he got to a second bellow, I wouldn’t be having any dinner that night. I scrambled to get downstairs, almost tripping down the stairs as I did.

“I’m here, Uncle,” I said, just to be certain he knew.

“About time.”

He laid down the burnt meatloaf on the table, stabbing at it with a knife until it fell into two pieces. He dumped one onto my plate, shoving the ketchup my way.

I drowned the meat with the red, sticky sauce. It was the only way to make anything Uncle Marvin made edible. Every day I was surprised that I hadn’t turned red from the excess intake of ketchup. It was a miracle, really.

We ate in silence, the dry meat sticking in my throat with every bite.

“You got anything to say?” he asked, his voice more of a grunt than a proper enunciation of words. He saved his polite voice for Mrs. Justice and the few others that dared speak with him.

“Um, how was your day?” I knew he didn’t care about my day so there was no point in sharing. What Uncle Marvin really wanted was to complain about all the trials of his day, but he wanted an opening first.

“Everyone at work is an idiot,” he started, which was how he normally did. Everyone he worked with was an idiot, everyone he encountered was an idiot, everyone in the world was an idiot except for him.

I was an idiot too.

He reminded me quite often.

His fork banged on the table, making the ketchup bottle quiver with fear. “Are you even listening to me or are you thinking about those stupid ideas of yours again?”

“No, I’m listening,” I lied. I did that a lot. Lie, I mean. The truth rarely escaped my mouth. I’d heard it called a compulsion before, by my school principal.

I called it a necessity.

The truth was ugly, nobody wanted that.

Uncle Marvin continued his tirade against the world while I tuned out again. This time I made sure to nod where appropriate so it looked like I was agreeing with him. He wouldn’t catch me thinking thoughts of my own again.

“You have to cook dinner tomorrow night,” he changed the subject abruptly, like the thought had only just occurred to him and he needed to say it before he forgot.

“I can’t,” I replied. “I have recycle club on Wednesdays.”

“Recycle club? Who the hell joins a recycle club?” He was bellowing again, his voice so loud it made Matilda, our cat, flee the room. Not even the possibility of getting the meatloaf leftovers was enough to convince her to stay. “You are outstandingly weird, girl.”

I chewed on my bottom lip so I didn’t say anything I would regret later on. The best way of dealing with Uncle Marvin was to let him do all the talking. It got the conversation over that much faster.

“Your father was smart leaving you,” he continued, his eyes crazy and wild while his bushy eyebrows tried their very best to contain them. “If I could run away from you, I would too.”

The thing about my Uncle Marvin was that he knew exactly what to say that would shatter me into a million pieces. I should have been immune to his barbs by now. But every time he mentioned my father, it cut me in two.

Then ten.

Then a million.

Until I was nothing but the six year old I was back then, watching my father leave in the middle of the night without looking back to say goodbye.

I blinked away the image, refusing to let it cause tears to fall. It was the truth, after all.

Like I said, the truth was ugly.

Nobody wanted that.

“Yes, Uncle Marvin,” I replied dutifully before standing to clear the dishes. I’d had enough of the meatloaf that I could stomach for one night.

He leaned back in his chair and undid the belt straining his huge belly. The moment the leather was free, a mass of flesh bulged over his pants. Uncle Marvin could use a diet but I wouldn’t be the one to tell him.

His beady black eyes followed me around the kitchen, inspecting what I did while waiting for an opportunity to criticize. I kept my back to him, going about my chores while keeping my mind blank and unthinking.

Matilda slid through my legs, walking between my ankles and meowing for dinner. I filled the tabby’s dish until she was purring with happiness and eating contently. Her fishy cat food looked more appetizing than the meatloaf.

“That cat smells,” Uncle Marvin grumbled.

His nose was nowhere near Matilda. He was probably smelling his own body odor.

“I will bathe her tomorrow,” I promised. At least, I would run a wet rag over her and tell him she had had a bath. Matilda wasn’t the smelly one here.

Uncle Marvin stood, making his chair screech with the movement. “You’d better.” He stomped off, his girth barely balancing over his stick legs. Quite frankly I was surprised his body managed to get around at all. It seemed to always be balancing like a spinning top.

I finished cleaning up and gave Matilda a pat. At least someone in the house was pleased I was there. The cat and I were alike, we had both been abandoned by our parents and adopted by Uncle Marvin.

The memory of finding Matilda when she was lost was still vivid in my memory. I had been searching the area behind a construction site, looking for lost things, when I heard the most pitiful meow on the planet. Her pathetic voice led me right to her.

She weighed less than the tube of lip gloss and was mostly bald. Whatever had happened to her in her short life as a kitten was hard on her. I took her home but she didn’t belong on one of my shelves. I cleaned her up, shoveling food into her mouth until she started to gain weight.

Uncle Marvin didn’t know about her for three weeks.

I was punished when he did.

Still, I begged and pleaded until he finally allowed me to keep her. I was given a million rules to follow, including making sure he never had to do a thing for her, but she was officially mine.

She was officially found.

He’d been grumbling about her ever since but I didn’t care. Matilda was mine and she was the only living being that I never lied to. She was always honest with me in return.

While Uncle Marvin settled himself in front of the television game shows–where he knew all the answers and the contestants were idiots, of course–I took Matilda upstairs to my room.

We curled up on the bed together, having survived another day.

 

* * *

 

My eyes were always scanning.

Looking.

Searching.

For lost things.

It came naturally to me now. I didn’t have to undergo any training to spot items that were lost. They spoke to me, calling to me to come and rescue them. I always just followed their cries and there they were.

Someone had left behind a book underneath the tree on the edge of the school grounds. It was sitting there on the grass, crying out for its owner to return and take it away with them.

The owner didn’t care.

They hadn’t even been missing it.

Collecting the book was going to make me late for class. The bell had already rung, everyone around me hurrying to make it before receiving a tardy note.

I didn’t want another tardy note.

But I couldn’t leave it behind.

I wouldn’t abandon it.

My feet stepped off the path and hurried to get to the book. Perhaps if I ran I would still be able to make it to class on time. I could slip in and pretend I was invisible, pretend I was one of the cool kids who made a point to be fashionably late.

I was almost there, just a few more steps and I would be able to pick up the book and shove it into my backpack for safekeeping. I would add it to my shelves when I returned home later.

Just as my hand was reaching, my knees bending, someone stepped out from behind the tree. It was a male, the same one who had been watching me yesterday.

This time, he spoke. “I wondered if you’d come.”

My hand was frozen mid-reach, my knees still bent. It was like someone had switched a freeze frame switch and paused me into place.

“Get away from me,” I replied.

“Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?” Of all the random questions he could ask me, he chose that one? I didn’t have time for this… idiot.

“Stop talking.”

“You don’t want to talk?” His head cocked to the side and I could see all the unspoken questions in his sparkling eyes. I didn’t have time to notice sparkling eyes, I needed to get to class.

My body could move again as I picked up the book and shrugged off my backpack so I could stow it away. The boy watched my every movement.

He made me uncomfortable.

He made me curious.

“I left that book there,” he said. “I wanted to see if you would take it. I guess I got my answer. Today is the third day I have been watching you and I still can’t figure out—”

“Stay away from me,” I growled, finally getting the book to safety.

I backed away from him before running to class. I didn’t know who he was or who he thought he was, but he needed to leave me alone. I made it one of my rules to stay away from people and found they generally did the same to me.

That boy was breaking the rules.

And I didn’t like it.

He also made me receive another tardy note. I added it to the pile in my bag. So far I think I had the record for how many one student could receive in a semester. They should have given me an award.

I slipped into my seat and ignored the looks I received from the others. They were generous, my peers, with their judgements. They threw them at me without knowing one little thing about me. I would have been surprised if they knew my name.

Emmeline Grace Gabrielle.

That was what my parents had named me.

Before they left.

I hated it.

“We have a new student with us today. Let’s get to know a little more about Francis Bolero,” old Mrs. Thompson said with a smile. I wasn’t really paying attention until the kid from outside stood up.

He shuffled to the front of the class, not an inch of embarrassment to him. “Hey, I’m Frankie. Just moved here from somewhere else. Looking forward to rocking it out.” He raised his fist to the air which made some of the girls giggle.

Not me.

I had a name now to add to my list of people I needed to keep away from.

Frankie Bolero.

Even his name was annoying. It dimpled like his cheek, all round and sharp at the same time. He was someone I needed to avoid, someone that would serve no purpose to me.

At least I now knew why I hadn’t seen him before. He would soon enough make friends that would find him interesting because he was new to the school. They’d lose interest after a while, like they always did. By then someone else would have started that they could move onto.

Then Frankie would be one of the lost.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. Judging by the amount of girls hanging on his every word as he introduced himself without saying anything real about his life, he wouldn’t be lonely. I wouldn’t have to add him to my shelves.

I suffered all through the double History class until lunchtime. Any break in the curriculum was prime time for rescuing lost things. People forgot about their things when they were having a good time, wrapped up in conversations and gossip.

My lunch tray was full when I took it outside to sit in the corner. If I sat with my back against the wall, I could watch. I could see it all and search for those items that were in danger of being lost. They needed me and I couldn’t abandon them.

Not when they needed me the most.

Just as I was munching away through my jello cup, someone stood in front of me and blocked my view. I was staring at their legs before my gaze travelled up the black skinny jeans, the T-shirt that was supposed to be funny, and then settled on the face.

It was him.

Frankie.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone,” I said in the bluntest and emotionless voice I had.

He sat cross legged on the ground in front of me. Still blocking my view. I was going to miss something if he didn’t move soon. “Oh, you did. But I decided that it wasn’t something I wanted to do.”

I dragged my gaze from the lawn to him until our eyes were peering into one another. They were blue, like the ocean on a cloudy day. Blue and deep and sparkling.

“Why don’t you find someone else to bother, Frankie.” I liked the way his name sounded, like it was angry when the K caught on my tongue. Like it could hook there and refuse to move, much like the boy himself.

“I didn’t realize I was bothering you.”

“Well, you are. And now you know, so you can go away. Please.”

His lips quirked up into a smile, one which I’m sure he thought was charming. It probably worked on all the other girls. “I was hoping we could get to know each other. You seem… interesting.”

I had been called many names before, but interesting was not one of them. Freak was the normal term of endearment for me. It was usually muttered just a moment before the person walked away from me.

Not all people appreciated their lost things being found.

By me.

Especially when I didn’t give them back.

It was time for a lie. It had been at least fifteen minutes since I’d used one. “My friends will be here in a moment and we don’t like dealing with the new kid. So please go away.”

Frankie didn’t look away, he accepted my lie like it was the truth. Of course, he didn’t know me very well. He nodded solemnly, his head bobbing until his messy hair fell in front of his eyes. Then he stood up and left, taking his tray with him.

As the boy walked away from me, something hurt inside. I felt sorry for him, regretful that I had lied so casually and he had taken my words as golden.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so mean to him.

But I had to remember my rules.

They protected me.

I ate the rest of my lunch watching everyone else and not being a part of their world. If Frankie watched me again, I didn’t see him. Although, something told me he wouldn’t be far away.

Just watching.

He would know I was lying by now.