“I don't think they have muggers here,” Xander said. “Besides, they'd have to be blind to not know we're brothers.” They both had dark brown hair, though Xander's was longer and shaggier. Same smile. And while David had their mother's hazel eyes and Xander his dad's blue, they shared an eye shape that was sort of like a teardrop lying on its side. There were times when each of them had mistaken David for Xander and vice-versa in photographs.
Even Dad had done that, but never Mom; she always knew, and without squinting at them to be sure, the way Dad did.
“It's going to be cool,” David said, “us being in the same school again, huh?”
“Maybe.” Pinedale was so small, it had only one elementary school and another school that served seventh through twelfth grades. It had been five years since the brothers attended the same school at the same time, when David was in second grade and Xander fifth.
“Are we going to find a house before school starts, you think?”
“That's the plan, but it's a lot to do in a week.”
“Car's gone,” David announced.
Xander looked up to see that the 4Runner was not in the motel parking lot. He said, “Dad probably went out for food.”
“Good. I'm starving.”
When they entered, Toria and Mom were sitting on Toria's rollaway bed. They were looking at brochures for what the locals thought were visitor attractions. Toria had picked them up at a gas station outside of town. She was always looking for something to read, was almost never without a book or newspaper. She even read the sports section, for crying out loud.
“Dad went for some grub,” Mom said.
“When'll he be back? I could eat a whole cow,” David said. “Gross,” Toria said.
Mom checked the bedside clock. “Should have been back by now. Probably making new friends. You know your father.”
“McD's?” he asked hopefully.
She smiled. “'Fraid you're heading for a junk food withdrawal, Dae. None of that here. There's a café up the street. Bet you like it.” David looked at Xander, neither of them so sure.
“Did you know this is the capital of Bigfoot country?” Toria asked.
Xander made a face. “Bigfoot?”
“Yeah,” she said, consulting the brochure in her hands. “There have been more sightings in this area than anywhere else in the United States. People have launched expeditions to find him, right from Pinedale.”
“So?” Xander said. “Did they find him?”
“If they did,” she said, “it would've been in the news. But there's a Bigfoot museum in town.”
The door opened and Dad stepped in, a brown grocery bag in one arm. The smell of roasted chicken filled the room.
“Dinner's on,” he announced.
David said, “Oh yeah!”
They sat at a table near the door. It was chipped Formica with what looked like stickers of sporting equipment plastered all over it.
As she heaped meat and potato salad onto paper plates, Mom said, “Eat up! I want us to get to bed early. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
“Doing what?” Xander asked.
“House hunting.”
Xander made a face. “All of us?”
“Would you rather stay here and babysit?”
“No, thanks.”
“I thought we could swing by and see your new schools too.”
“Noooo,” David moaned.
“Oh, come on!” Xander said. “We're in town less than twenty-four hours and we have to go see the
school
?”
Mom said, “You want to see it before your first day, don't you?”
“I can wait,” Xander said.
“It won't be so bad. You'll see,” Dad said, shaking a forkful of chicken at him. “Now eat.”
SUNDAY, 9:20 A.M.
The next morning, during breakfast at the same café where Dad had bought their chicken dinner, Mom wondered about the local churches.
Dad frowed and looked at his watch. “I haven't had a chance . . .”
Mom shook her head. “Mr. King, next week for sure. No excuses.”
Dad smiled. “Absolutely.”
Twenty minutes later, the Kings found themselves in front of Pinedale Middle and Senior High School. Xander could not find the right words to describe it. Okay, it had a nice settingâ quaint, peaceful. Situated up a forested hill, it overlooked the town. On three sides the tree-covered hills continued, giving the school a lush, green backdrop. The building itself was a brick single-story. L-shaped. In the square yard between the wings were grass, several flat-rock patios, picnic tables, and a flagpole.
A lot like a park
, he thought. Still, it was a
school
.
“Pretty, isn't it?” his mother said.
“It's okay,” he answered, shrugging. “Does
pretty
really matter when it comes to education?” Trying to sound enlightened.
She gave him a dirty look. “Hey, you're the one who has to look at it for the next three years, not me.”
They all climbed out of the SUV. From their vantage point in the front parking lot, marked Visitors and Fac-ulty Only, they could see the end zone and scoreboard of a football field around back.
David pointed to the statue of an animal leaping over the scoreboard. “Their mascot's a cougar. That's cool.”
“Panther,” Dad said. “Pinedale Panthers.”
“That's cool too.”
Mom crossed the pickup lane and stepped into the grassy area. “Come on, let's have a look.”
David, forgetting himself, ran to catch up. Toria followed.
Dad stepped up next to Xander. He patted his son on the back, then laid his hand on Xander's shoulder. He said, “Not interested?”
“I'll see enough of it after next week.”
“I know it's tough to change schools. I did a lot of that.”
Xander turned to him. “So that makes it okay?”
“I'm not saying that. Just . . .” Dad seemed to search for the right words. “I wouldn't have done this to you if it wasn't important.”
“Important to who?”
“Us. The family. Me.”
“That's the part I don't get. Why is it important? I thought you liked being a teacher. I thought you liked Valley High.”
“I did. Iâ” Dad looked up at the sky. After a few moments, he lowered his eyes to Xander's. “You gotta trust me on this, okay?” Xander turned away, pretending to watch Mom, Dae, and Toria scope out the school.
Did
he have to trust him? It wasn't really
trusting
him he had to do, was it? It was really about going along with his plan, because he was a kid and couldn't do anything else. Not yet.
He said, “Sounds like you don't have a good reason.”
“I do,” his father said. “I just can't . . . I can't get into it right now with you. When I can I will.”
Xander bowed his head.
What is this?
he thought. Dad had a secret reason for moving all of them to Pinedale? Or was it Pasadena he was moving them
from
? Was he going
to
something or run- ning
from
something? A hundred possibilities occurred to him at once: Was his father in the Witness Protection Program? Had he discovered a treasure map and was determined to make them all rich? Had he had an affair, and distancing all of them from the other woman was the only way to hold the family together?
Nothing sounded right. But it had to be
something
. Probably it was a midlife crisis or something else equally lame.
“Son,” his father continued, “don't think you're here simply because I want to be and I have to bring you along. You're not baggage or furniture. I
need
you.”
“But you can't tell me why.” Xander held his lips tight.
His father's shoulders slumped. He looked miserable. He said, “Not yet.”
“When?”
“Soon, I promise. But don't fight me on this, as hard as it is for you . . . please.” He extended his hand to Xander, wanting to seal his son's compliance with a shake.
Xander knew his dad was trying to bridge a gap. He stared at the hand, then grabbed it. He let a weak smile bend his lips.
He said, “I'll try to do better.”
“That's all I'm asking for.” Dad cocked his head at the school. “Wanna check it out?”
They started walking. Dad kept his palm pressed to Xander's back. Mom, David, and Toria were gazing into different windows.
“Classroom,” Mom called out.
“Here's the library,” David informed her.
Toria said something Xander couldn't make out.
Dad and Xander stepped onto the open area's grass. It was thick and impossibly green. It felt like an exercise mat under Xander's feet.
“I still want to go home,” he said.
“I know, Son.” He slid his hand to Xander's shoulder, squeezed it. “I know.”
A few paces farther, Xander said, “Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“If I guess your secret, will you tell me if I'm right?”
His father laughed but didn't answer.
SUNDAY, 11:27 A.M.
Two hours later, they had seen three properties that were for sale.
It was clear to Xander his parents were looking for something completely different from the suburban house they had left.
The lots were large and thick with trees, the houses more like the hunting cabins he had seen in moviesâcabins where college kids seek shelter from ax-wielding madmen or ticked-off ghosts. In those movies, the cabins were never shelter enough.
One house he and David liked was situated down a slope from the road, nearly invisible through the trees. A riverâ Dad said it was Weaver Creekâcut so close to the house, Xander thought they could fish from the back deck. The water rushed over boulders, making a surflike sound. All Mom could see was a deathtrap and refused to discuss the possibility of buying it.
Xander didn't mind the secluded settings. He figured that since there wasn't a multiplex or mall within two hundred miles, and given the choice of forested isolation or depressing little cafés and retail shops, he'd rather live near Mother Nature. He started to view the properties from an outdoors-man's perspective: hiking alone in the woods; dirt biking over the rugged terrain; campfires and pup tents within sight of a refrigerator and bathroom.
Each property took them farther from the school but never so far that he couldn't bike it when he had to. If he got a car, he wouldn't care if they found a place in the next county. In fact, he was starting to get into the tight, winding roads that snaked away from Pinedale in four directions. He could easily see himself behind the wheel of a '68 Corvette convertibleâ327-cubic-inch engine, tuned exhaust, four-on-the-floorânudging the speedometer on each turn until the tires squealed in fear.
Dad consulted a stack of property listings, which he had printed from a local Realtor's Web site. He put the car in gear and backed out of the gravel driveway.
Mom turned in the seat. “So what do you think so far?”
“I liked the one with the river,” David said quickly.
“Will I get my own room?” Toria asked.
“
You
will,” Mom said, and the way she said it made Xander ask, “What about us?” He and David had shared a bedroom for twelve years, and he'd thought if anything good came out of the move, it might be finally getting his own room.
“It depends,” she said. “These houses really aren't that big.” “I noticed, but there's lots of land. Could we add on?”
“Hey!” David said, clearly liking the idea.
“Whoa,” Dad said, “additions are expensive.”
Xander rolled his eyes.
Everything
was expensive. When Dad started talking costs, it meant it wasn't going to happen.
Dad switched on the blinker to turn left, waited for an oncoming car to pass, then pulled the 4Runner onto a narrow, paved road. The forest here was especially dense. They crowded the road and in spots formed leafy tunnels through which Dad drove.
“What if we do it ourselves?” David asked.
Dad glanced back. “Do what?”
“Build our own bedrooms.” His big grin told Xander he had all sorts of ideas for a room. Xander shook his head at David and mouthed the words
no way
.
“I don't think so,” Dad said. After a moment, he said, “You know,
maybe
.” He smiled back at David. “That's not such a bad idea.”
David made wide eyes at Xander, whose face was slack in disbelief. Dad hadn't even said he'd think about it. “Not such a bad idea” in Dad-talk was
yes
.
The 4Runner pulled onto a dirt road. While David rambled on about skylights and secret rooms behind hidden panels, Xander studied the forest on his side of the car. Foliage and shadows limited visibility to twenty or thirty feet from the edge of the road. He would be the first to admit that he knew as much about trees and the woods as he did about Thailand, but he couldn't help but think that there was something different about
this
forest. The leaves of different trees seemed to sway in opposing directions, more like they were controlled by the trees themselves than by the wind. Shadows shifted oddly. The darkness rushed at the car, stopping just feet from the forest's edge, then it pulled way back, exposing gnarled trunks and spindly branches deep within the forest. It reminded him of the surf, flowing in and out, but much quicker and without a discernible pattern. He knew the swaying leaves and branches, as well as the clouds, could cause the weird shifting of shadows, but still something about it left him uneasy.
City boy
, he thought.
Freaking out over the trees' shadows. Man, I
gotta get over this.
SUNDAY, 11:43 A.M.
The road simply ended. No cul-de-sac. No sign like the ones they had seen before: “Private property. No trespassing.” Or “No motorized vehicles beyond this point.” Just road . . . then trees.