Excerpt of The Guardians of Feral Mountain

THE GUARDIANS OF FERAL MOUNTAIN

By GG Anderson

Chapter 1

Born in 1987, I arrived to parents who were deeply in love and survived on dreams with not much else.  Continually my father had been told he could do anything his heart desired, which is usually a positive thing for a parent to foster in children.  My dad took this quote literally, believing he would be able to solve the world’s problems by befriending aliens from outer space.  That venture had proven neither easy nor lucrative, thus no mystery surrounded why my family struggled financially.

I came into the world during the heat of summer with fire red hair.  Not the color red people ask their stylist for.  No, my color more closely resembled a clown’s from a major fast food chain.  I called it untamable; my mother insisted it was high-spirited. 

She had a unique way of seeing things.  Take my name for instance; she thought it sounded independent and sassy.  I thought it was wretched.  Feral: not exactly a name for a girl.  By definition it describes an animal which has returned to the wild.  In case I ever forgot the meaning, the kids at school reminded me daily.  “Freaky Feral, why don’t you go back to the jungle where you belong?”   I learned early on kids could be cruel and it served me best to simply ignore them.  All in all though, my life seemed pretty great.  Fate however had other plans.

Weeks prior to Christmas of my ninth grade year, my entire existence shifted on its axis.  Just days before Thanksgiving, which we traditionally spent helping out at the mission, my mom and dad left for the grocery store. 

“Did you want to come along, honey?  We shouldn’t be gone long.”  Mom gathered her purse, tearing the list from the refrigerator door.

“No, I still have this book I need to finish for school.”  I held my book up, not moving my eyes from the page.

“Well, suit yourself, we’ll be back soon,” Mom kissed me lightly on my head.   

“See you kiddo.”  Dad kissed me on the cheek.

“Uh, huh.”  I didn’t even look up as I heard them drive away in the old green Volvo station wagon. 

Dinnertime approached and I hadn’t heard from them yet.  On the edge of worry, I calmed myself by picturing my father taking a scenic route home, until a knock came at the door.  I expected it to be some new group of religious missionaries who hadn’t yet been warned to stay away from our duplex.  My heart sank when I opened to find an official uniform behind the door.

According to the report, my parents were killed instantly by a semi driver who lost control, but thankfully no one else was injured. I would analyze the last conversation with my parents over and over in my mind, forever drowning in the regret of missing that simple trip to the store. 

Time seemed to move in slow motion around me, as I tried to make sense of this new reality.  Inundated with questions I held no answers for, I discovered the most ironic thing: although my mother worked for a shabby attorney, my parents didn’t have a will.  Since I was only fourteen-and-a-half and no record of an appointed Guardian existed, I officially became labeled an orphan.  While everyone professed their deepest sympathy and included me in their thoughts and prayers, no one could explain where I was to go now. 

The real kicker was I didn’t know of any living relatives, so offered little help to inquiring social workers.  A woman, who my father sometimes worked with, took pity on me and offered her sofa through the funeral.

As the days passed, my mother’s voice continued to echo through my mind, “The only way out is through.”  Looking in the mirror the morning of the service, I made the decision my mother was right.  Pushing my shoulders back, I took a deep breath and decided I could get through anything the universe threw at me - including this. 

Two days later I received the good news: a distant cousin on my mother’s side had been located and agreed to take me in.  She and her husband had two grown children and lived in Idaho, of all places, on a small property at the base of the mountains.  Geographically, I could find Idaho on a map, but I hadn’t been any closer to it than Lake Tahoe. 

Before long I said good bye to Jennifer, my father’s friend and boarded a bus to Donnelly, Idaho.  As I took my seat alone in the back, emptiness echoed around me.  I clung to my seat, an island a drift in a sea of strangers.  Hours passed as frost thickened and clung to the windows.  The scenery changed quickly from comfortable, familiar streets and landmarks, to majestic mountain views, then sprawling desert and finally ending in snow covered trees.  From the bus window I smiled slightly as the scenery grew more picturesque.  It looked like the inside of one of the snow globes my mother put out at Christmas.  I missed my mom.  She would have loved going to a new place; saying it was part of the journey we are each on.  I found little comfort in that sentiment at the moment as I knew nothing about where I was going other than it seemed really cold and I wore only a slicker.

On December third the bus pulled away and I first laid eyes on my third cousin, Kathy, and her husband, Jim Kerig.   They smiled slightly when I stepped towards them, sizing me up from head to toe.  Kathy greeted me with a curt nod while Jim grumbled, “The bus was late.”  Trailing behind, words were lost to me, as I loaded my few belongings into the bed of the truck, and joined them up front.  On the rough ride back to their place, I cautiously studied Jim and Kathy.  Calloused hands and lined faces told the tale of hard work and rugged living.  Their lack of conversation felt awkward and uncomfortable.  “Thanks for taking me in,” I uttered, trying to break the heavy silence.

“We could use the help.”  Kathy answered without taking her eyes of the road.

 Through the truck window, I watched as we drove deeper into the snow globe called Donnelly, and I questioned its classification as a town.  It seemed to be more like a gas station, with a church or two.  I saw nothing resembling a mall, or superstore, no movie multiplex, not even a major chain restaurant.  I speculated about what people did for entertainment here. 

The scenery however, revealed a different story completely.  Breathtaking mountains seemed to be everywhere, covered with dark green Christmas trees, heavily laden with ornaments made of ice and snow.  Forcing my mind to think positive, I wondered if maybe there would be hot chocolate and marshmallows around the next corner; then again, maybe not.

  Jim assigned a list of chores and provided me with a schedule of daily responsibilities immediately after arriving at their home.  “This is your room,” Jim said shortly after our return trip from the barn.  He nodded in the direction of a small area which appeared more of a wide spot at the top of the stairs than a room.  Jim ducked his head as he descended the steep narrow stairway.  The space felt small, short and drafty, because technically it hung over the garage.  After moving the large dusty boxes, I uncovered a small twin sized bed and dresser.  The good news was that hidden behind all the storage, I found a great window looking out over the property, with ample views of the mountains.  Also, traveling by bus limited my luggage, so my room continued to serve its current purpose of storage closet.    

In my spare time, I uncovered advantages to the unimportant little room.  Apparently, years ago, their daughter spent much time in here, and at some point tucked many of her special belongings in a small closet-type cupboard in the far edges of the attic.  Their dusty pages told tales about my cousins that I otherwise would have never known.  According to her journals, Jim and Kathy’s own daughter hated them with a passion and planned on moving out the moment she became old enough.  Based on the little bit of information I could get out of Kathy, she succeeded.  She now lived back east somewhere, Kathy really couldn’t tell me for sure, but their daughter didn’t make it home much.  Based on the stories, that wasn’t an accident. 

Jim’s faded flannel shirt and heavy blue overalls seemed to wear his tall and lanky frame instead of the other way around.  Disorganized grey hair, tried to escape the grungy baseball cap sitting haphazardly on the top of his long thin head.  A relatively gruff man, his deeply pitted face remained wiry and unshaven no matter the time of day.  Jim seemed as likely a candidate for father of the year as someone who donated at a sperm bank.  He never spoke of his children; instead he obsessed more about the latest gossip from the local café.     

During one of his morning exits I asked if I could tag along.  Having not left the property since my arrival, the idea of sitting with Jim in the truck appeared enticing.  His face turned red and the vein in his neck started to thicken and pulse.  He spat back something about respect and knowing my place and stormed out the door shaking his head.  Kathy appeared a moment later wearing a look of disappointment and disgust.  Her frame filled the doorway, causing the morning sun to disappear for a moment.  Her short thin hair hung limp on the sides of her full round head.  Through her dry grayed lips she added more tasks to my list and made an obvious effort to not speak to me for the remainder of the day. 

Her silence was not uncommon.  Neither Jim nor Kathy spoke to me much, other than to give direction.  I survived the experience learning that my head down and mouth shut seemed the best policy in these new surroundings. 

Later I heard them talking of the local high school.  Classes would be reconvening after Christmas Break scheduled to end the next day.  The school held less than 300 kids, and not being a resident since birth, I got the feeling friends were going to be a challenge.  It must have been common knowledge I moved here, as I couldn’t imagine Jim not making known his kind heart had permitted Kathy to take me in.  (I wasn’t so sure it didn’t have more to do with the additional free labor and extra social security check I provided.) 

So it was January: a new school, a new year, and new life.  That is what I tried to tell myself as I trekked down the long road to catch the bus.  The morning felt too cold for my slicker so I wore the old coat I used for chores.  It continued snowing, which wasn’t half as much of a problem as the direction.  Here it snowed sideways, making it impossible to duck my head and protect my face.  The snow pierced my ears and burned my neck as it melted down into the collar of my shirt.  This was not the kind of snow shown in movies.  There were no fluffy flakes fluttering down landing gently on my nose.  No thick downy coverings of delicate white powder, and no cotton like tufts billowing lightly around my feet.  I pulled my jacket tighter around me and forged on. 

The bus finally came and I felt like an alien as I boarded.  Everyone grew quiet while I moved to the back toward an empty space.  Whispers replaced the silence as the whine of the engine pulled us closer to the school.  It wasn’t too hard to duck behind the tall seats until we arrived, however, getting off the bus without being seen remained a bit more challenging. 

“Hey aren’t you the girl from California?” a few people asked.                          

“Yeah, Berkley actually,” I replied hopefully.  Unfortunately, they moved back to whichever group they had strayed from. 

Although a school this small didn’t have many people, I still identified two apparent cliques: the in-crowd and the out-crowd.  The ‘in’ clique consisted of athletes and pretty people while the ‘out’ clique spent their spare time trying to not get caught doing whatever they were doing.  Within the two major groups were a few crossovers: those who were accepted by both with equal affection.  That left a couple of total dust collectors: people who didn’t have a place or a group to call their own and essentially sat upon the sidelines collecting dust.  Of course, this is where I found myself. 

Commonly I rode to and from school on the bus, and went through all of my classes without a single student or teacher speaking to me.  Since moving to this strange town, I settled in to my new way of being and grew to like my silent routine.  After the first couple of weeks, I started to appear invisible, which I preferred.  It was lonely, but the good news was it stayed predictable.

At home in California, I had a more outgoing personality.  Not necessarily with students, but the local librarian and all of the women at the senior center, where I volunteered, knew me well.  Since moving here, I preferred the sound of quiet and solace to forced socialization.  At my new place of residence, I became friendlier with the cows and the chickens than with Kathy or Jim. 

I discovered quickly if I came off the bus and handled my outdoor chores, proceeded to the house and attended to what Kathy needed inside and cleaned up dinner, I could usually slip away to finish on my homework in peace.  I found myself always checking out new books from school and looking for different topics to explore. 

History wasn’t my favorite subject, probably because my dad taught me history was another word for storytelling.  He believed the people writing the text had more to do with the history than the events themselves.  So in turn, I avoided that section, re-reading other favorites instead.

Soon the calendar said spring.  In most places, Donnelly’s weather still registered winter, but after the long and cold wonderland, the slight change of constant temperatures made even the muddy forest look inviting. 

It was one of those days when I met my new best friend.  Trudging through an area getting deeper in mud by the minute, I heard a slight whimper under a bush.  I went to investigate and found an insignificant brown mound of mud resembling a puppy.  Taking a closer look, the thinness of his body revealed the apparent missing of meals for a while now. 

I picked him up and started to pet him carefully.  The mud was deeply matted under his coat and between his toes.  Although it had become slightly warmer out, it still remained too cold for the little guy and he shivered continually.  Prying the ice chunks from between his toes and behind his ears, I felt the evidence of a rope used to tie him up at some point.  He since had grown and the rope had embedded into his neck.  As I tried to pry it loose, he looked up at me and licked my hand.  I recognized a lost soul who needed someone. 

Continuing to work debris out of his fur I pondered my choices. I couldn’t leave him here, but knew if I brought him to the attention of Kathy and Jim it would guarantee his dismissal from the place, thus most likely sentencing him to a horrible death involving a sack and the local lake.  Instead, I hid him in the animal barn until a more suitable home could be found.  Grabbing the old knife used to cut bailing twine I carefully removed the nylon rope.  He whimpered as the hide pulled loose. 

He remained hungry, which posed a bit more of a challenge.  Anything out of the ordinary taken from the kitchen would be noticed.  So the first night, I ate extra slow; making sure Kathy and Jim were easily done before me.  I scraped what I saved and the remains of Jim’s meatloaf and potatoes into a small bowl taking it out when I emptied the garbage.  My new friend ate gratefully, but it wasn’t going to be enough to keep him full for long. 

Kathy mentioned, as I cleared the breakfast dishes the next morning that they were headed to the city and wouldn’t be back until after dinner.  The city, as they called it, was Boise, a small town in comparison to most cities in California, but a two hour drive down the mountain, secured me the day of unsupervised time. 

As soon as the sound of their truck faded down the road, I went to scrounging up items to support my new dog.  I dragged my pieces as far out into the forest as I dared.  Keeping Rogue, as I decided to call him, near the property would be dangerous for his health.  Jim was too happy to kill anything he believed may interfere with his cows. 

The spot I chose for Rogue’s homestead lay up the hill at least a half mile.  The boards weighed on my body like concrete blocks with each step I took, but I couldn’t allow myself to focus on the ache in my legs, and instead concentrated on how nice it would be to come home from school and have someone to talk to.  Bending the old warped wood, I hammered the rusted nails the best I could into a rough shaped box.  Rogue sat with me contently watching and listening for the return of Kathy and Jim.  I worked quickly, keeping an eye on the time.  Unconcerned by my progress, Rogue munched on a couple of his biscuits happily, and dozed on and off in the thin midday sun.  I finished for the day, adding a thick layer of straw in his new house.  I patted him gently and it took several times to convince him to stay at his place.  I left him two more biscuits and all but ran back to Jim and Kathy’s. 

Not long after I replaced Jim’s tools in the garage and rushed through my chores, Kathy and Jim drove up.  Helping them unload the usual supplies I saw a few bags of new clothes.  I tried not to hope, since the chances of them being for me seemed highly unlikely.  My wardrobe really hadn’t lasted me through the winter, and after asking Kathy if I could get a few things, she told me money was tight, directing me to a box of old clothes in the garage.  They smelled like mildew and diesel even after washing.  I assumed they were their daughter Lisa’s, and obviously she stood quite a bit shorter than me.  Trying to make do with what I had, I rolled sleeves of shirts and made the jeans not so dated by cuffing those I could to be more of a Capri pant. 

Well after dark I finished unloading the truck and restocking the pantry.  I devised a plan to offer to work in the garage in the morning so I would most likely have the rest of the afternoon to myself. 

My plan worked flawlessly and actually took a turn for the better. I was organizing the heavily-neglected garage, sorting through boxes of miscellaneous bolts, screws, pieces of tubing, copper fittings and other seemingly useless treasures, when I uncovered a beautiful motorcycle.  Now to most it came across no more than a small Honda Trail 90, but to me, it emerged as a possible ticket to freedom.  I tried to keep indifferent when I asked Jim about his use for it.  He said the bike belonged to Ryan, the mysterious son, and when he joined the military, he left it along with several other things. 

Delicately I asked my next question, “So Jim,” I started casually, “do you know if it runs?” 

Jim looked at me, which alone was a rarity, and furrowed his brows.  “Well, I don’t know, why do you ask?”  Of course Jim knew why I asked, but made me spell it out anyway. 

“I was just thinking if I could get it running, it would be handy to have, you know, until Ryan decided to come back.” before I finished my sentence I suspected the answer returned would be a firm no.  It was close.

“It is Ryan’s, so if you want to find out if you can use it, you better talk to him.”  Jim’s glint in his eyes alluded to the satisfaction of presenting an impossible requirement, which made me all the more determined. 

“I understand,” I replied and for the moment let the subject die. 

I finished cleaning and organizing the selected section and he came to inspect my work.  My body screamed tired but I still had a lot of things on my own to-do list.  He excused me and when I went to see if I could help Kathy with anything, she had fallen asleep on the sofa. It appeared while reading a magazine her eyes had given out.  This practice remained very common.  I slipped out of the house, after I made Jim lunch and myself a large sandwich I would never be able to finish.  Based on the look on Jim’s face, he was headed to rest his arthritis in the easy chair next to Kathy.  I disappeared easily into the woods without a word to anyone.   

I made it up to Rogue in pretty decent time, although I think he heard me coming, since he met me part way.  Teaching him to not come so close to the house became priority or I would lose him for sure.

We played fetch and sat together in the weak afternoon sun.  I petted his fluffy coat, weaving my fingers through his speckled fur.  He smiled up at me with his trusting black eyes.  “I am so glad you found me, boy.”  I whispered.  He rolled over again, so I could rub his belly.  It quickly went down as my best day since moving to Idaho.  I needed to keep Rogue safe not just because he depended on me, but even more so, for my own sanity. 

My subconscious began devising schemes to earn money for the things we both needed.  That is when I realized I could look in the library and find what people, women mostly, did for money back in the old days.  My mind opened up and I envisioned what was possible.   

Finishing my afternoon with Rogue, I started to head back down to the house.  Growing up, we never had a dog, because my dad said aliens feared them.  I always thought it more likely because we lived in an apartment and pets were not allowed.  Now, here, in my own version of hell, this world sent me an angel in the form of an abused, neglected puppy.  I subconsciously noted the similarities, but tried not to see myself reflected in him.  I had come to realize this new place would make or break me.  I would either learn to flex with the winds of change, or be snapped like a fallen twig.

The next day I hurried through my essay in English so I could make it to the library before lunch.  Heading straight to the history section, I scanned the shelves, and immersed myself in a book as the lunch bell rang.  Focusing so much on Rogue now, I realized lunch at school just allowed me another opportunity to collect scraps for my dog. Closing my book I asked the librarian if I could come back after I finished eating.  She looked over her glasses from her own lunch and begrudgingly agreed.  This librarian I mostly annoyed, because I frequented the library so often.  She preferred no one use the facility so she could read her own books in peace instead of dealing with children. 

I rushed through the people, touching as few as possible, and made it to the cafeteria.  I was thrilled to see it was Ham and cheese Yum Yum day, because the portable biscuits were an ideal treat for Rogue.  My new stealth mission: collect half-eaten sandwiches without anyone noticing.  Avoiding ridicule for the most part, I assumed asking people for their left over lunches would shine a spotlight I preferred avoiding.  So instead I took a seat beside a garbage can.  

“So what is she, garbage girl now?”  I heard an in-crowd girl snicker to her friend as they walked away.  Ignoring them as usual, I kept my focus clear today, refusing to allow petty teenagers to pull me off tangent.   I ate incredibly slow then stacked all the discarded sandwiches on a tray.  Going to the lunch ladies, I got a small garbage bag, and stuffed it into my locker.   

I asked to be excused from my math class to go apologize to the librarian.  Her small nose looked slightly stuck up as she narrowed her dark blue eyes over her glasses.  She forgave me quickly, flaring her nostrils slightly as I rambled on about helping in the lunch room.  Her dark hair sat stiffly in a low clip, showing her small silver earrings which jiggled as she waved me away, eager to get back to her book.  I noticed this morning she started a new one concealed in a fabric cover; a torrid romance, I assumed.

Returning to Kathy and Jim’s, I allowed myself only thirty minutes to do my homework and hoped my teachers would forgive my penmanship.  “I am going to do chores. Did you guys need anything?”  I asked as I prepared to leave that night.  Kathy and Jim didn’t move from their chairs, already engrossed in the television.  I yelled, so I was sure they would hear me over the blaring program, “Ok, see ya.”  I paused one more time, taking the lack of response as an indication I could be gone as long as I wanted. 

Rogue waited for me impatiently, wiggling from head to tail.  He could smell the new treats I had brought for him, and was hungry.  We sat and played a bit, but it grew late and I had school in the morning.  Dragging every step, I headed back to the house. 

This became the routine for the next couple of weeks with the only addition of my reading.  I took my books and read by Rogue, while he lay contently with his head on my lap for hours.  It always became later than I wanted and I forced myself to go back to the house. 

I made my way through several books and began to get a firm grip on what people in this area did at the turn of the century.  Staring up at the clear night sky, I often dreamt of living in that time with just me and Rogue, away from all of the duties and demands of Kathy and Jim. 

Automatically, I started to pilfer more and more stuff out to where I kept Rogue. I hauled a few of the copious empty five gallon buckets to use for storage. I enjoyed having little comforts while I spent time with him and it reminded me of taking Barbie’s outside as a little girl.  There were always things I could bring to make our little camp site better. 

The next Saturday Kathy and Jim went into the city, I permanently borrowed more wood and some spare tools from Jim.  Then found different containers and started to organize my items better.  I began to get band-aids from the house, aspirin, even a tube of antibacterial cream which expired over a year ago, but remained pretty full.  I looked for spare dry goods that wouldn’t be missed and canned items I could feed Rogue in a pinch.  It seemed as if unconsciously I could see what the next few months would be like.

This time when Kathy and Jim returned from the city, something was definitely different.  I didn’t feel brave enough to ask what happened, but I assumed it must be serious.  Kathy didn’t eat dinner and Jim wouldn’t even look up all evening.  Going up to my room, I tried not to pay attention to the black energy downstairs. 

Chapter 2

Loss                 

The next morning I woke before the sun.  Jim was up, but not really moving around yet.   In stealth mode, I snuck out and made a dead sprint up to Rogue’s place giving him some breakfast quickly and telling him to stay, then running back down the hill toward my chores.  

Rushing through them again I noticed one of the chickens seemed to be setting.  My instructions were to deter this, but today, I didn’t want to take the time.  When I went into the house, I felt in good spirits.  The next day would be Monday, which meant I only had five weeks left of school.  Excitement began to well in anticipation of starting my summer projects like trying my hand at berry gathering and hand sewing some blankets for Rogue.  My good spirits were quickly foiled by the look on Jim’s face.  His deep set eyes zeroed in on me.

“You need to know something,” he began.

“Ok.” I stood waiting motionless.                     

“Kathy is sick.  We’ll have to go down to town more now and you are going to help out around here.  She isn’t going to be able to cook and clean like she used to, so you need to pick up the slack.”  His arms were folded across his chest and his brows furrowed into almost one thick line.  Jim’s worry for Kathy felt sincere, but shadowed in comparison to his need to express my presence here had added to their burden. 

“Yes sir.”  I answered quietly.  Hurrying to make breakfast, I tried to re-enforce my understanding of his request.  The entire day I spent making sure everything was cleaned and polished by washing the sheets on their bed and putting together a casserole for dinner.  I started to wonder if I would make it to see Rogue again today.  Finally, well after dinner I trekked back up the mountain.  Hungry and very ready for company, Rogue whined softly as resigned to head back down and drag my incredibly tired body to bed.

 Barely making it to the bus stop I realized I forgot to finish writing an essay on the Middle Eastern conflicts between the Shiites and the Sunnis.  My eyes didn’t think they would stay open until lunch.  My mind and body were so tired and sore from all of my work over the weekend that I barely registered it when the bell rang. 

Stashing my backpack in my room,  I went down stairs to start my evening routine.  The house was quiet, which I was thankful for.  Entering the living room I found out the reason. 

Jim sat alone in the front room with a rifle uncomfortably across his knees.  Sadness exuded from his demeanor, something I had never seen on him before.  I froze stiff.  As he finally raised his eyes to meet mine, I saw anger running rampant across his face.  “Kathy has been taken to the hospital.  I am going into town to be with her.”  His eyes filled with sadness again.

“Ok,” I replied weakly.

The anger returned to his voice, “You are going to stay here and take care of things.”

“Ok,” still not understanding the rifle on his lap.  My eyes trailed down to the gun and he realized my question.

“Also, there was a stray looking at the chickens earlier, so I had to shoot it.  You better not be leaving food lay around that may attract vermin.  I won’t tolerate worthless creatures on this property, do you understand?”  Jim’s words rang harsh on my ears.  I wasn’t sure what I heard past ‘shot it.’  I looked at him through empty eyes, trying to comprehend his statement. 

“I am leaving.  I only stayed long enough to gather up some clothes.  Now go make me a sandwich to take on the road.”  Jim turned away from me.  It was now possible I had lost the one thing I relied on.  To make matters worse, I had the privilege of making a sandwich for Rogue’s alleged assassin.  My vision blurred as I worked through tear-filled eyes.  Jim came into the kitchen and took the sandwich from me without a single word of thanks or goodbye.  I shouldn’t have been surprised.  He didn’t care about anything, except himself. 

The moment he left I ran full barrel to the spot where Rogue should have been.  I stumbled and fell several times on the way, still blinded by emotion.  Memories of the precious time we had spent together clouded my eyes, brimming over and dissipating with my tears.  I knew my friend wouldn’t be there, yet I looked all around, calling for him with my broken voice.  No answer.  My knees were shaking, my head spun.  I couldn’t bear to imagine him being gone.  I retraced my steps back to the house, looking for blood or any sign of him injured. I couldn’t find anything. 

Way past dark, I forced myself to feed the other animals and call it a night.  I finally laid down into bed; tears still streaking down my face, the clock read 12:48.  I slept rather restless and woke feeling more tired than I did the night before. 

Dragging myself out of bed, anger still coursed through my veins but slowly the familiar hollow ache replaced it, as I thought about how truly alone I found myself once again.  I sighed trying to swallow the lump lodged in my throat. I contemplated not going to school to look for Rogue some more. It didn’t take much convincing, so I set out towards his camp, still calling his name.  No answer.  I hauled the backpack over my shoulder now, filled with extra bandages and vet items I found in the small barn.  I didn’t care anymore what kind of trouble I would get into if they came back and found it missing.  I didn’t even care if they came back at all.  The whole place felt empty without Rogue.  I couldn’t bear the thought of him whimpering under a tree somewhere alone, suffering.  That mental picture is what pushed me further up the mountain. 

I wasn’t sure the distance I had traveled, still looking for any sign of my best friend.  Grief made time stand still.  Exhaustion hung over me, but the fear of losing my one thing in this world kept me hiking through the damp muddy forest.  I walked in zigzag patterns for hours, often finding pockets of old snow in places.

Finally, I saw something up ahead, its shape almost blending into the trees.  By the size it appeared to be a simple cabin, but the oddity of it, is what drew me in.  Something about the whole scene intrigued me, and I couldn’t resist moving in for a closer look.  Peering into the ancient dirty windows, I made out maybe one room, and noted part of the roof had been damaged by a fallen tree.  The windows were surprisingly intact, with the exception of one.  The heavy wooden door remained shut, but I easily broke the seal of ancient dust and age to open it part of the way and looked around the interior.  The eerie creek of hinges welcomed me in. 

Obvious it had been empty for many years, as the animals and nature had started to reclaim it.  A small woodstove with a flat top that must have been used for cooking stood on one side.  The couple of cabinets in the kitchen remained in good shape, still containing a few ceramic pots and jars mostly broken by squirrels and raccoons.  Under years of dirt and cobwebs, the petite wooden table looked to be in decent condition along with an old pair of chairs.  A small raised area, assumedly a bed, had long ago been destroyed by creatures.  The roof from the inside wasn’t as damaged as it first appeared, and although water had obviously leaked in, it didn’t seem as severe as I would have guessed.  Something about the place made me smile and for a moment I didn’t feel like I was alone anymore. 

I left, closing the door behind me, hoping I could find it again soon.  I walked back down the mountain, in the direction of Rogue’s place and then back to the house, trying to retrace where the cabin was located. 

I didn’t realize how far I had traveled, until the walk back.  Continuing to call for Rogue, I started to lose hope.  I finally returned to the empty house.  My faith started to fade fearing for Rogue and the cold snap that was setting back in.  Anger and regret washed over me, wishing if I had been home sooner I could have stopped Jim, or if my cousins were normal people I could have told them about Rogue.  I allowed my mind to float into fantasy land and dream about living on my own, never having to deal with Kathy or Jim or anyone at school again. 

Out of left field the revelation hit me like a ton of bricks.  I could use the time I had alone here to finish my ninth grade year and work on fixing up the abandoned cabin.  I would get my GED in a few years, if I felt I needed to come back down the mountain.  Ironic now, I had been reading all of the history.  I realized it must have been part of the master plan my subconscious had concocted, and the driving force behind my need to stockpile supplies.  I didn’t have to stay at this place any more. I didn’t even have to stay for one more minute. 

I would, however, because I wouldn’t leave the livestock defenseless.  They couldn’t control that they were owned by horrible people.  It made me think of the hen setting on her precious eggs.  She didn’t have to have her choices taken away either.  I went to bed with a new feeling of Zen.  I cleaned up the already spotless house and made sure the laundry was caught up.  I started to look at everything differently.   Hope was finding its way back to me.

The next morning I woke with more enthusiasm.  At this point I couldn’t do anymore by staying home again.  If Rouge had survived, although I still couldn’t quite wrap my brain around the fact he hadn’t, I couldn’t help if I couldn’t find him.

I headed for the library as soon as the bus stopped.  Only a few minutes remained before I needed to get to class.  The first book I got my hands on was called The Almanac of Rural Living.  I checked it out quickly and started thumbing through it on the way. 

School let out and I headed for the bus stop.  Typically, I glided down the hallways with my usual grace and lack of physical contact, but this time I found my path blocked by a teacher.  She wasn’t a teacher I knew and in fact, I wasn’t sure of her name, but there she stood right where I needed to be. 

“Are you Feral?” she asked, which didn’t make much sense because at this school everyone knew everyone else’s name.

“Yes.” 

“I am Mrs. Dean.  Come with me, please.”  I followed her nervously.  We walked into her room, which appeared to be the Government class and she turned and looked me in the eye.  “I need to talk to you about your aunt.”

“I don’t have an aunt.” 

“Kathy?” she looked annoyed.

“Oh, my cousin,” I tried not to sound snide, but apparently, correcting a teacher whom I just met wasn’t advisable.

“Yes, I know she is ill and I wanted to find out how she is doing?”  Mrs. Dean wasn’t exactly up on current events I noted.

“Jim said she is in the hospital.” my non-important tone didn’t sit well with Mrs. Dean. 

“I am sorry to hear that.  Jim and Kathy are such nice people and to take you in, you are so blessed.” she paused trying to emphasize the part about how grateful I should be.  “Kathy and I have been on several committees together and she is one of the most kind-hearted people I know.  My husband and Jim have been acquaintances since before Mr. Dean served on the police force.  Great people they are.” 

 I did my best not to smile sarcastically, but as always, I had a hard time containing my emotions.  The slightest flicker of my face let her know I didn’t feel blessed at all. 

She cleared her throat in disgust and continued,” I want you to give her my best.  When are you expecting her back home?” 

“I don’t know.”  I let my voice drop at the end, trying to show some sadness, hoping it didn’t come off over-played.

“Well, give Jim our love.” then she stood, as a sign for me to leave.  Good timing too, because as it was, I had to run to catch my bus. 

I found my seat, pulled a notebook from my book bag and started to create a list.  Four and a half weeks wasn’t going to feel very long with so much to do.  The first task: I needed to start stocking my new cabin with essentials.  Second, but just as important, I had to secure my cabin against intruders, like raccoons or other critters.  There were enough things around Jim and Kathy’s incredibly cluttered property that obvious cast-off items would be easily taken without notice.  Others I would need to discover a way to purchase.  The Honda Motorcycle in the garage started me thinking.  I wouldn’t be able to take it without getting caught, but if I could contact Ryan and he gave it to me, then I would either have a way to get around, or something to sell.  Either way, I wrote number three on my list - get in touch with Ryan.  I wondered if I could get my place ready in less than five weeks.  It was a daunting task and a piece of me remained a bit afraid of what lay ahead. 

When I walked off the bus, Jim’s parking space stood empty and I had the slight feeling maybe I should be worried about Kathy.  I pushed it aside and went into the house.  With it being empty, it made it easy to start rummaging through the storage in my room.  I found a few more clothes and some sewing supplies, and started a pile for my evening trip.  I resigned this to be my new routine.  Even though the cabin was far away, I didn’t know how else to get all of the things I collected up the hill, except piece by piece. 

Taking my now stuffed backpack, a dilapidated book bag, along with a couple of empty five gallon buckets I found, I loaded up and headed out.  I continued to call for Rogue and continued to lose hope.  I tried with all my heart to push his possible suffering from the forefront of my mind. 

Now with all of the bags loaded down on my back, the walk to the cabin felt even farther than before.  My legs burned and my feet ached, but still I marched forward, gaining with every step.  Finally I saw it faintly in the distance and it gave my heavy feet the strength and determination to keep going. 

The door remained closed as before, but this time it seemed more willing to open for me.  I walked in and dropped my bags with a dusty thud.  The window and roof were my first concern. I could store all I wanted in here, but if it wasn’t sealed in a five gallon bucket, it would be a virtual buffet for all the wild creatures.  The window would be the simplest fix.  I had brought some small boards and an old hammer.  Jim would never miss this one, so I decided it would become one of my tools.  I hammered the board to completely cover the window in minutes and although it made the interior of the cabin much darker, for now, it would have to do.   

Next: how to get on the roof.  I didn’t feel I could drag a ladder up the mountain, so I forced my tired body to try and climb up.  This daunting prospect posed a real challenge and without any assistance, I surprisingly made it on only my seventh try.  

The roof was covered in thick debris and the entire surface appeared a little misleading.  I tried to step forward, but it was as if something stopped my foot.  Static electricity went up my leg.  I tried another path and this time my foot landed firmly on the roof.  I leaned down and started to brush the needles and branches from the top.  The slight pitch to the roof kept me focused on not falling off.  I started to get a bit concerned as to if I would be able to handle the roof repair on my own, but then I heard my mother’s voice in my ears saying, “You can do anything a man can do, you will just look cuter doing it!”  I smiled despite myself wondering how cute she would think I was now, planning to run away from her cousin’s and live off the forest.

The high sides of the surrounding valley caused the sun to set quicker than I was used to in California.  So I secured what I had brought into the buckets and risked leaving the tools and hardware on the floor in the corner.  Shutting the door securely behind me, I marveled at how the heavy hinges from long ago, still hung so strong. 

I avoided Rogue’s little camp on the way up, simply because it depressed me to think of him as gone, but now I forced myself to stop by, just to make sure he wasn’t waiting for me.  Before I even approached, I could tell it felt too quiet.  Sighing, I called a few more times.  I wasn’t giving up; just facing reality.  Even if he had lived, to crawl away suffering, I should have been able to find him by now.   

I wiped my eyes as I started feeding.  The cows were frustrated with my continued tardiness with their dinner, but the chickens didn’t seem to mind.  I looked at my little hen, setting on her eggs and smiled thinking of the trouble I would get into if I was caught.  I wouldn’t get caught.  I would figure out a way to safely take her and her babies away from here.  After doing the checking, it would take only twenty one days for her chicks to hatch.  I figured I had about two weeks left until then. As bad as it sounded I hoped Kathy would be gone that long.  Besides, to really live on my own in the forest, a couple of chickens were probably not a bad place to start. 

I went into the house to fix myself something to eat.  Hurrying through my homework, I finally got to the book I nabbed from the Library that morning.  I started reading and memorizing everything it contained.  I shoved the book back into my bag, refusing to allow my brain to get overwhelmed already. 

As I did chores the next morning, the sadness over Rogue began turning into unfiltered anger towards Jim.  He was an awful man.  I couldn’t understand how someone like that could be a parent.  Then again, it appeared neither of his children cared much for him.  I had been taught for years not to hate anyone, let alone elders, but in his case, I felt I could make a special exception.

Taking the few minutes before I left for the bus, I consulted my list, number three: contact Ryan.  If I could get a hold of him, I hoped he would tell me I could have the motorcycle.  I looked in Kathy’s address book, betting she would have a contact number or even an address that would work. Unfortunately, I found two addresses for him, both scratched out.  I sulked off to the bus stop, still earlier than necessary. 

It seemed to take longer to get to school that morning, or maybe it was my desire to get as much accomplished as possible before first period.  The library remained empty of course, except for Miss Librarian, who appeared to have made it almost three quarters through her latest romance.  I handed her the book from yesterday and headed off to the same section for another.  Her dark hair sat piled on top of her head.  She took the book and quickly checked it in without even looking up.

Only a few books sat on the shelf to choose from today, so I thumbed through the first and chose the second, hoping it had what I needed. I scanned it again on my way to class.  The book I had today was called, One Acre and Security.  It talked about moving to the country and building your own cabin.  I started to feel all I would find in books were how-to guides to find property and build a homestead, until I stumbled on the section of growing herbs and selling them. 

This was one of the keys that plagued me since devising my plan.  I needed to earn some income eventually, no matter how well set up my cabin may be at first, but I had no idea how to do it outside of making soap and canning berries.  Also it would have to be something I could do, without being seen.  Once I disappeared, it would only be a matter of seconds before everyone in the valley knew about it.  There would be no secrets in this place.  The herbs gave me a glimmer of hope.  I could plant them, tend them and do almost everything else anonymously.  I could even look at selling them in the city, which I realized remained a two hour drive by car, but it was something to think about.  If I could make a good crop or two, it may allow me some freedoms down the road.  Like looking at college, or moving back to California.  My hopes were beginning to spin quickly out of control.  I needed to keep my head on and not allow the ideas filling my mind to over shadow the tasks at hand. 

Class dragged and even lunch took forever.  Baked potato bar was not my favorite, but it did allow me more time at the library. (Seriously, how many potatoes did this state have to eat?)  School ended and I headed for the bus, nose stuck in the new book.  Out of the corner of my eye, a boy walking a dog pulled my attention back to the present.  He crossed the parking lot and the dog loped after him.  The dogs coloring of grey speckles mixed with black looked similar to Rogue but this one had more white.  She waddled behind him, her age apparent in her slightly stiff gait.  The boy helped her into his truck, her legs probably weak from years of jumping, and she wagged her little tail in happiness.  I looked back down at my book.  I missed Rogue.  This new lifestyle of solitude had taken more of a toll on my mental frame of mind than I had given it credit for. 

In California, I had a life filled with conversation and communication.  My mother had been my best friend and my dad my playmate.  People around me, at the senior center as well as the library, were my social network, here, it was just me. 

I looked down at the Homesteading book again when I got on the bus.  One of the lines said, “You will enjoy homesteading, if you enjoy the work and if you like your own company.”   I looked out the window again.  Without Rogue this was going to be a very lonely existence.

I got off the bus and checked the mail as usual.  I always thumbed through it, just to see if anything interesting came.  I knew there’d be nothing for me, but curiosity forced me to look anyway.  Today there was a card.  The light blue envelope wasn’t addressed to me, but I was pretty sure it was sent from the Gods.  The return address is what caught my eye.  He must have sent his mom a card and right in front of me sat a return address for Ryan Kerig in Georgia.  It was simple as it could be.  I walked into the house and immediately started a note to him. 

Five versions later, I had something that resembled normal.  I told him his parents had taken me in and I had stumbled upon his old motorcycle.  I explained that Jim said it wasn’t his to give away, so I could contact Ryan if I wanted to see if the Honda was available.  I signed the letter with my full name, and found a stamp in the desk in the kitchen.  I shook slightly when I put the envelope in my backpack.  I hoped when, and if, he replied I would be able to intercept it before Jim did.  Then again, I had no idea how long Jim would be in the city.  It had been almost a week and I hadn’t heard anything.  I didn’t really expect a call, but I started to wonder if the depleting groceries were something anyone else would be concerned with. 

I told myself going without certain things would quickly become the normal way of life.  That made me continue my list of cabin essentials, dry powdered milk would definitely work for the necessities, something else I would need to acquire.  I took that as my cue to load up and head to my cabin.  I was really starting to like the sound of ‘my cabin’.  It kept me going as my muscles strained, protesting, against the pull of the mud.  My limbs resisted being pressed further up the steep hill.  Again, I found as soon as I could see the cabin in the distance, it made it easier to push my body forward. 

The rest of the week continued about the same.  I got stronger each day and the cabin became a stretch my tired muscles grew accustomed to.  My stash of goods started to fill up an entire corner.  I concluded it was time to find a lock to secure the door.   

The weekend was very productive, filled with more trips, and scavenging for necessities.  I sorted through Jim’s scrap pile, finding a wheel barrel that had rusted out and been left in the junk heap, along with other cast off treasures.  Working my way through the entire stack, I collected many broken tools which still mostly worked and would be helpful in my new life. The wheel barrel I lined with a piece of old canvas irrigation dam.  The wheel was long gone, but I found a smaller version off a discarded piece of farm equipment.  It wasn’t perfect, but it would work.  The trip up the hill took longer trying to maneuver the wheel barrel filled with miscellaneous parts.  However, I knew in the future I would be thankful to have them. 

Miscellaneous pieces of chain and rope, old metal containers, parts of plows and hoes were some of the bigger pieces I dragged up the mountain that weekend.  I also uncovered some tin roofing behind the barn that would luckily fix my roof issues.  

I almost collapsed into the chair the second I stepped foot back into the house.  I made myself some basic biscuits, something I had mastered with the frugal ingredients left in the house.   

According to my calculations, the chicks would hatch in the next week.  I needed to secure housing for my hen and her chicks.  I figured the loss of one chicken out of the flock of over 50 wouldn’t be missed.  I could use Rogue’s shelter inside the cabin for a temporary coop until I moved up permanently.  I couldn’t risk losing her to a passing coyote or fox. 

The next day I skipped school again.  It would be my last opportunity.  I secretly celebrated that next year I wouldn’t have to worry about trivial attendance policies.  I headed up the hill to drag Rogue’s house up the mountain.  It was difficult because the movement made it a final ending to our short-lived relationship.  It was too much to hope I would ever see him again.  I knew better, the mountains weren’t friendly to healthy creatures, let alone those that were sick and injured.  “Good bye boy and thank you.”  I whispered looking back through tear filled eyes one last time.  I wiped my cheeks as I made the final last pull to the cabin.

Chapter 3

New Connections

                                                                       

If I doubted the possibility of the universe sending me to my new destination, it dissolved immediately upon the beginning of the last week of school.  When I went to the library before class Monday morning, Miss Librarian wasn’t at her desk.  She stood in an isle looking over a list of book titles, frustration written all over her face.  Her hair tossed up haphazardly, even her shirt looked disheveled slightly. 

“Excuse me,” I interrupted.  “I don’t mean to bother you, but I was returning this book and wanted to check out another, if that’s ok?” 

Her eyes looked up at me briefly and glanced at the book in my hand.  “Who is that by?”   

“It is by Patricia Crawford.” I turned the cover to face her.

She sighed in response.  “Oh, you might as well keep it.  It’s being pulled from circulation.”  She waved the paper in her hand, “This list just came in from the district.  Apparently, we have been awarded a large grant for new library books and computer stations.  I get to spend the next week pulling all books that are not staying.” 

This was the longest conversation we had ever shared.  Her eyes went back to the list.  She looked totally annoyed.  I assumed that irritation came from not being able to finish her latest romance novel. 

“Oh, well thanks.”  I replied brilliantly, turning away from the counter without getting a new book.  I walked to class, my mind reeling.  The quote from the book had been haunting me and although I was warming up to the idea of living totally alone, it would help if I at least had some books to read.  I already took the few from the attic room, but they were little more than teenage mystery and romance stories.  If this book was being discarded, likely there would be others that maybe helpful in my new endeavors. 

The announcements in first hour made the pieces fall together.  The entire school had a half day party on Thursday to celebrate the last day of school for most.  The seniors had senior activities on Friday and the rest of the school had been awarded a movie at the same time.  The last couple of days of school were really a waste in my opinion.  They were calling it a reward and celebration for us having good test scores and for finishing our finals scheduled for the beginning of the week. 

I left first hour and headed straight to the library again.  “I am so sorry to bother you, but since you have so much to do this week, I wondered if you could use some help?” my voice sounded weak in my ears. 

Her eyes looked up, bigger than I had ever seen them and her hands froze.  “You want to help me?”

“Sure, why not?”  I shrugged. ”You said a lot needed to be done, and I feel I am in here as much as anyone, so I know my way around.”

“Don’t you have finals and activities?”  She searched for a hidden agenda. 

I fidgeted with my hair, “I also thought if you wouldn’t get in trouble, maybe I could have some of those discarded books.”  I looked down at my feet, “Only if it wouldn’t get you in trouble or anything.”  I waited for an answer not daring to look up. 

“Really?”  The surprise rang clear in her voice. “You would rather hang out in the library than join in the parties and excitement at the end of the week?” 

I shrugged again, “I don’t really like parties.”  And I don’t have any friends, but I decided not to add the last part.

“If you really don’t care, I am sure I won’t be done by then.  I would love the help.”  Her entire energy shifted.  “I will plan to see you Thursday afternoon.  That is really nice of you, thanks.”  She sounded pleased.

“When I am done with my tests, I could come down while everyone else is finishing”.  Woodshop didn’t even have a final.  Everyone already had been planning which games they were going to play.  Mostly boys, it looked like I would be missing out on a game of poker.  I could live with that.

Her eyes got big again, “Really?  Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I am totally sure.  It isn’t like there is anything to do after the tests,” for me anyway.  I finished in my head.

She looked at me deep in the eyes, “Ok, if you are sure you don’t mind.” 

“No, it would be good to have something to do.”  I smiled lightly.  “Maybe you could write me a note, so when I am done with my tests I can come down?” 

She started looking for a piece of paper, “That is right, you will need a note.”  She scrawled across the page, “Ok, well, thanks again.  Your first final is starting in just a few minutes, right?”

I realized I had been in the library way past our six minute break, so hurried to my first final, which I was sure to ace.  It held up to my expectation and I finished in less than thirty minutes.  The rest of the class still worked, most looking around at the walls hoping to jog their memories or see invisible answers posted on the ceiling.  I walked to the teacher’s desk and set my test paper on it.  I then extracted the note from my pocket and gave it to her.  She looked at it quickly and handed it back.  Assuming it counted as a dismissal, I left quietly

The library door opened to music playing in the background louder than usual.  “Hello?”  I called tentatively. 

“I am back here!”  She emerged carrying a pile of dusty empty boxes.  She smiled when she saw me.  It was a total different look than I had seen before.  “That was really fast, how do you think you did?”

“Pretty good I guess.”  I had aced it.  It was multiple- choice with only two tricky questions on the whole thing.  “Where do you want me to start?”

“Well, I figured we could load these up with any of the books you wanted and then we could put the others in those.” she pointed to a pile in the corner behind me, “So how many of these do you want?”

“I don’t know.  I figured if it looked interesting I may take it.  How many can I have?”  I tried to leave out the piece of me screaming loudly I would take all she could give me.  In fact, a small library of my own was an incredibly exciting concept.  I could hardly contain my mind from going on about how great it would be to all but home school myself. 

“You can have as many as you like.  We will go through these and then we can get them to your house.  Do your Aunt and Uncle care if you drag all of them home?” 

Her question sent two thoughts spinning simultaneously through my head.  First, how to drag the books home, I didn’t have enough time to take them on the bus one tote at a time.  Second, how, in this small community she did not know Kathy and Jim were my cousins not my aunt and uncle?

“They are out of town right now, actually.  Kathy is really sick I guess.”  I tried to sound concerned, but it came out rather flat.

She eyed me with curiosity, “Oh, I hadn’t heard.  I am sorry.”

“S’okay.  I don’t really know them that well.”  I started to back track a bit, “I mean I didn’t know them before I moved here.  I don’t want her to be sick either.”

“So what is wrong with her?” she handed me a list of titles and authors and I started on the shelf.

“I don’t really know.  I mean, I know they are in the city, but Jim didn’t tell me anything specific other than she’s sick.” 

She paused, “He didn’t tell you?”

“No, he is a pretty quiet guy.  He doesn’t talk much.”  I tried to keep it light, but failed miserably.  I went for my Mom’s approach, “The good news is it makes for a very peaceful house.”  I smiled at her.

 She continued on her shelf, “So, is he staying in the city with her?” 

“Yeah.”                                                                                                          

“And you are taking care of things here for them, while they are gone?” 

“Yeah.” I figured simple answers were better here.

“When did he leave?”

I had been afraid of that one, “I guess last week,” or technically the week before.

“When is he expected back?” the casual tone seemed more controlled.  She didn’t approve of his absence apparently.

“I am not sure; I guess when he feels he can leave her.”  I put the books I collected into the boxes, four for me and two for the discards.  She watched me choose my selections. 

“So, you haven’t heard how she is doing?” she started in again casually.

“No.”  I breathed deeply.  I wanted the subject to change.  I tried to rack my brain on different topics.  “So where do you live?”

“I am just on the edge of town, the other side of town, back towards Donnelly.  Where is Jim and Kathy’s place?” 

Again, the question surprised me.  If she had lived here for any length of time, she should have known the answer.  Everyone knew where everyone else lived.  “We are on the edge of Donnelly, closer to Cascade.  It is right at the base of the mountains.  I figured you knew.” I smiled although she couldn’t see me; she was working two rows over.

“No, actually I am not from here.  I only moved here for work.  I grew up in the Portland area.  Where are you from originally?”  I Looked at her and cocked my head.  She had to know this.  She must have read my thoughts, because her smile came into view and she added, “California, right?” 

“Yes.  Berkley.  How long have you lived in Idaho?”

“Oh this is just my first year here.  I moved from Baker, Oregon.  Better climate.”  She smiled.  I hadn’t ever really noticed she looked kind of pretty when she smiled.  The prettiness never stood out before, probably because she didn’t smile much.  I noted I should try to have her smile more often. 

“So I have an embarrassing question, what is your name?”  I couldn’t keep calling her Miss Librarian.  Surprisingly she laughed. 

“You know, the only reason I know yours is because you check out so many books.  I guess you wouldn’t really know mine would you?  I mean, I never say it.  I am sorry, my name is Miss Black.   Jacquelyn Black.  Friends call me Quinn.”  She smiled.  It was amazing how different she looked when she wasn’t behind a book looking down her nose at me. 

“Well, hello Miss Black, it is nice to meet you!”  I laughed lightly and put another in the box to discard.  I read titles trying to make good choices as to which I should hold on to.  The transportation issue weighed on my mind. 

Miss Black noticed.  Looking at me and she asked, “Feral, would you like a ride home with those tonight?”

My green eyes lit up like Christmas lights, “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” 

“Not at all.  Technically, I am supposed to go through and take out all not fit to sell and destroy them.  I just have such a hard time destroying books.  I would much rather they leave after most everyone is gone for the day.  We could stay later and get more done if you like.”

“That would be great.”  I hadn’t realized my desperate need for conversation until now.  It had been months since I just chatted about nothing and everything with another human being. 

The time flew by. I brought my lunch back and then the bell rang.  My second final was woodshop, so I left for just a minute to take my note to the teacher and then headed back to the library.  We were definitely making progress on the list and I already added several great pieces to my box.  The sound of the bell rang again.  This time, I knew I didn’t have to run to catch the bus or worry about someone sitting next to me.

Miss Quinn, as she asked me to call her, (I couldn’t do Quinn, too casual and she hated Miss Black,) said it was time to get going.  “After all,” she had added, “If I want any help the rest of the week, I better let you study for your next exams.” 

We loaded her little silver jeep with the three over flowing boxes of books, and drove to Kathy and Jim’s house.  I contained my excitement, seeing it still sat quiet and empty, as I carried the boxes into the back door and set them on the floor.  I planned to take up as many as I could to the cabin as soon as she left, so I didn’t bother taking them in farther.  She waved good bye and I thanked her again, but she seemed to linger for a moment, accessing all of the surroundings.  My pulse jumped, realizing she noticed how much responsibility Kathy and Jim left me with.  I didn’t think it seemed so bad.  It was only some cows and a flock of chickens.  It couldn’t have been that big of a deal to people who had been raised around it.  Then again, she hadn’t.  I had actually heard of the town she grew up in. 

As soon as her taillights faded in the distance, I started filling my three bags with books.  Lifting them up, I almost collapsed. By the time I got back to the house it was well past dark and exhaustion started setting in as I fed in a zombie state.  To make matters worse, hunger gnawed at my insides.  A couple of biscuits were left from last night, so I snarfed them with just a bit of honey and chugged down a large glass of water. Then I forced my eyes to stay open long enough to look over the history class notes of my first final the next day.  The second final would be my Algebra class, which I hadn’t even bothered to study for.  It was pointless, since it would be a cinch.   I don’t remember falling asleep that night, but I do remember waking late. 

I barely made it to the bus and my hair looked like it.  Without having time to shower, my wild red hair was standing full and bushy. Combing it made it worse, so I just pulled my fingers through.  What a fright I looked when I caught my reflection in a window on the way to class.  I almost laughed out loud.   My loud exhale of air caught the attention of a boy passing.  He paused and looked at me as if live animals might jump out of my hair and then turned quickly away. 

I didn’t use homeroom for studying like it was designed, since I now had a destination for my free time.  It appeared several of the students found the homeroom study option wasn’t entirely necessary, because they brought cards and while others sat and chatted in the corners.

The history final proved a bit more brutal than I hoped.  It took almost a full hour to finish.  Surprisingly Miss Quinn wasn’t alone when I entered the library.  “Oh, hello Feral, this is Scott.  He is helping today because apparently he doesn’t find passing Government important to his future.”  Her voice had changed back to the short, irritated tone I first remembered.  I smiled slightly at him and went to work, avoiding conversation.  It was obvious Miss Quinn was as pleased about our company as I was. 

Scott worked very slowly, watching the clock more than reading the book titles.  The moment the bell rang, he sprinted from the library heading to lunch with the other mobs of people.  I sighed as the door shut and Miss Quinn sighed at the exact same time.  We laughed lightly.  She looked even more casual today, kakis replacing the basic black pants topped with a fresh brightly printed top changed her entire appearance. 

“I hate it when teachers send students for me to baby sit.  The library is not detention and just because the office sends them back to her, doesn’t mean they are now my problem.”  Connecting a few more dots at that point, I realized the teacher Miss Quinn had identified as ‘she’ was the government teacher.  Mrs. Dean, the teacher who cornered me about Kathy.  That explained a lot.  If Miss Quinn wasn’t friendly with Mrs. Dean, she wouldn’t necessarily know about my cousins and their connections to everyone in town.  I liked Miss Quinn more and more. 

I walked down to the lunch room and brought back my tray.  I enjoyed chatting more than sitting invisible in the sea of students. 

“So did you have plans this afternoon?”  She asked.

I looked at her smiling at the offer of a ride home again.  “No, do you?”

“Yes, I have to get this done, remember?  Do I have your help then?”  She smiled too.  It never ceased to amaze me how absolutely beautiful she looked when she smiled.  It was a completely different person.

“Absolutely!” I beamed.  The bell rang and I dashed off to class to the Algebra II final. 

Sure enough, the final was completely predictable.  I trotted to the library and noted Miss Quinn had made a great deal of progress.  As I grew closer, I noticed she was sorting some of the titles into two different boxes.  Obviously, I could see which one belonged to me.  The titles were all about pioneers and homesteading, as well as fix it, how-to and do-it-yourself books.  I looked up at her, registering the titles in my mind.  My face faded completely white. Her next words nearly knocked me over. 

“I have seen you check out several of these type books lately, so I figured they were what you needed most.”  Her eyes didn’t move from her shelf while she put another title in the box, The Owner Built Homestead.  I think she had kept that book out to drive in her point.  Here I thought I had been so sly.  I hadn’t given her enough credit.  She was a very observant woman. 

Still, I couldn’t risk having an adult in this town know what I planned.  Again, as if she could read what went through my head, she added, “You know it is good for people to do research into things that interest them.  I have read almost every book about romance in print.”  She laughed lightly while I quieted my brain.  This was her way of saying she knew, but wasn’t going to tell. 

I smiled sheepishly.  “Thanks for separating them out.  I certainly appreciate it.”

“Oh, you are welcome.  Thanks for helping me.  I actually have enjoyed our time together.” 

My happiness directly correlated with my amount of human contact lately.  How silly that sounded, even in my mind, while I dusted the living room, just in case Jim and Kathy came home the next day.  I realized right before I went to bed, I hadn’t gotten the mail in the past two days because of my change in routine. 

I walked down the road in the dark, enjoying the crisp air and yet the feeling of warmer weather on the horizon.  The box almost over flowed and it took both hands to carry it.  Reaching the house, I looked through it again out of curiosity.  Mostly there were bills or junk mail, but a few were more cards.  I figured based on the amount of get well wishes, someone must be telling people how Kathy was doing.