Gran’s eyes jerked to mine, a knowing smirk on her lips. “I did bump my head, but I feel fine. Nara has asked me several ‘concussion’ questions, and since I’ll be here tonight, you can keep an eye on me.”
When my mom gazed at me, an uncertain frown on her brow, I said, “Remember I took that sports medicine first aid class last year? Don’t worry, l’ll take Gran home in the morning where she promised to have the doctor at Westminster look her over.”
Mom nodded her agreement and asked Gran in a calmer tone, “Why didn’t you call and let us know you were coming?”
Gran rolled her eyes. “How would it be a surprise then?”
“Surprise?” Mom glanced at me, clearly confused.
“I brought Inara her birthday present.”
“Present?” When Mom returned her gaze to Gran, I tensed. Gran had said she didn’t want Mom to know about my present, so why did she mention it?
“Yeah,” Gran turned and pointed to the black raven statue sitting on my nightstand next to my jewelry box. “Did you know your mother made that?”
I exhaled a breath of relief and quickly tucked the journal inside my desk drawer while Mom’s attention was on the statue.
And how did you know I hadn’t already shown Mom, Gran
? I hadn’t, of course. Thank goodness.
* * *
After a wonderful dinner, where Gran insisted on making a homemade birthday cake (“
My
birthday present to you, Inara,” she’d whispered in my ear while stirring the batter), she and my mom sat around the table laughing and crying over stories about my grandmother for a couple of hours. I smiled through the entire evening. It was wonderful to see Mom enjoying time with her aunt.
I made sure Gran was settled in the guest bedroom and then headed back to my room, anxious to learn the raven man’s name. I’d felt stalled with my research lately, so I was looking forward to jumpstarting it again.
But first things first. I pulled out my phone and checked to see if I had any messages. I had one from my aunt, responding to the text I’d sent right before dinner.
Me – 6:00 p.m. ~ Gran is having dinner with us. Yes, mom and me! Shocker
!
How are things going
?
Did you find out anything
?
By the way, I told Mom you were on vacation in Florida
.
Aunt Sage – 7:45 p.m. ~ Oh, that makes me so happy, Inara! I’m glad your mom is starting to open up some. There’s some big event going on here in D.C. with tighter security. It has been hard to get in to see his secretary. I’ll think of something. In the meantime, I discovered a gem show will be here at the beginning of next week. Might as well stay and buy some stones to beef up my jewelry selection. Okay, Florida it is.
Me – 9:50 p.m. ~ You’ll be home sometime next week then? What has your tarot told you? You brought your cards, right?
Aunt Sage – 9:57 p.m. ~ Yes, I’ll be back at the end of next week. Oh, you are such a smart girl. You just gave me the best idea for how to get in. Will update you when I have something. Love you!
Me – 9:58 p.m. ~ Don’t know what I did, but yay for unintentional inspiration. Keep me updated and stay SAFE. Love you too
!
I also had a text from Lainey. It was probably about her new dress. I kept staring at my text message screen, surprised Lainey’s was the only other message. The hopeful part of me wanted to believe that no messages from Ethan meant that his week was going well, but another part of me felt left behind…or somehow forgotten. My heart ached at the sad, fleeting thought, so I sent Ethan a text. I was tempted to write, TTTWFO? But instead I opted for a less freaked-out version.
Me – 10:00 p.m. ~ How are you doing
?
Haven’t heard from you lately
…
Ten minutes passed. Nothing. I couldn’t help the worry that swept through me.
Me – 10:10 p.m. ~ I’m allowed to worry about you too, you know. Let me know you’re okay
.
When another ten minutes passed without a response, my stomach started to knot. All kinds of scenarios began to flit through my mind. He was back in his old bedroom with all those negative memories; the room where he’d been so freaked out by the darkness trying to consume him he’d tried to take his own life. And now that he didn’t have my dreams helping him cope, he was spiraling. I didn’t even know his parents’ address or phone number in Michigan. It’s not like I could call and ask to speak with him. I fired off one more text.
Me – 10:20 p.m. ~ If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow night, I’m calling your brother
!
Breathing rapidly, I tried to calm my raging imagination. I needed a distraction so I opened the text from Lainey.
Lainey – 7:20 p.m. ~ What happened between you and Drystan
?
He’s being a total ass. You need to smooth things over with him, or I swear he and Matt are going to beat the crap out of each other. I had to jump on his back to pull him off Matt earlier. Damn, it wasn’t easy either. He’s like one big muscle
!
Ugh! I felt horrible. How many people had treated Drystan so horribly that he’d gotten so angry over what he felt was my distrust? He deserved an answer. If there was a way for me to tell him about my ability without him insisting we figure out how our powers had combined in the past, I would, but I hadn’t figured out how to do that. For now, he at least deserved an apology.
Me – 10:30 p.m. ~ I’m sorry, Drystan
! Please don’t be angry. I don’t want to lose our friendship over this.
Then I sent Lainey a text.
Me – 10:31 p.m. ~ I tried. Hopefully he’ll calm down. Tell Matt I’m sorry.
Lainey – 10:33 p.m. ~ Thanks! See you tomorrow
.
When ten minutes passed without a reply from Drystan, I figured that was my response. He was done with me. My spirits sank a little as I set my phone on my nightstand. I was being honest. I appreciated his friendship and didn’t want it to disappear.
I retrieved my grandmother’s journal from my desk drawer, then lay back in bed and flipped to the page Gran had marked with the ribbon.
Corda and I had lunch with one of our classmates today, Erik Holtzman. I’d been in awe of the watercolor he’d painted of a raven in our class, and when I asked him how he’d painted it so vividly, he invited us to lunch so he could tell us all about it. I’ve never seen someone as dedicated to his work as Freddie is. He insisted we call him Freddie, saying that’s what all his friends call him. We learned that the reason he could draw with such detail was because he raises ravens for research. So fascinating! He’s even publishing a book about them
.
Erik Holtzman? No wonder I couldn’t find any publications when I scoured the Internet with search terms “author name Freddie and ravens”. Freddie and Erik? Hmmm, maybe it was a pen name. Then a thought occurred and I felt like smacking my forehead. I’d been so focused on the name Freddie in my searches, I didn’t think about it being a nickname. The use of Erik for his author name made total sense now. Freddie was derived from Frederick. Holding the journal, I walked over to my desk, then pulled open the bottom drawer I’d tucked Ethan’s journal in, while I continued to read. I planned to add Freddie’s author name and information to Ethan’s book.
But to listen to Erik talk, the passion in his voice, the ravens are more like family
—
When my fingers didn’t connect with the cloth bag I expected, but paperwork instead, I immediately glanced down, my heart thumping.
Ethan’s book was gone!
I quickly set my grandmother’s journal on the desk. My hands shook as I squatted to search under the paperwork for Ethan’s book. Nothing.
Frantic, my gaze jerked around the room. I knew it wasn’t in my backpack. After the attack in the library, I’d kept it in my room, hidden inside a dark green drawstring bag that had come with my laptop to protect it. Had I unknowingly set it somewhere else? I tore through my room, looking in places I might have set it: the top of my chest of drawers, inside each of the drawers, inside my nightstand drawer, on top of books on my bookshelf, under my desk, underneath my bed.
My breathing turned rampant as I yanked open my foldable closet doors to scan the wire shelves inside. Nothing but neatly folded sweaters and jeans.
Falling to my hands and knees, I slid my palms along the carpet under my hanging clothes just in case I’d dropped it and it had somehow gotten pushed beneath the clothes. I was just getting ready to stand when a roughness on the carpet right in front of my hanging clothes snagged across my palms.
I frowned at the dim light in my closet, then moved to grab the tiny flashlight from my desk drawer. I returned to the closet to shine the bright penlight on the carpet.
My throat closed when I made out a muddy footprint on the beige surface. It faced toward my bedroom, as if someone had been standing just inside my closet, looking through the closed doors. With a sick feeling in my stomach, I turned and put the toe of my shoe inside the shoeprint to compare size. It was huge, at least four sizes larger than my own.
I gripped the tiny flashlight and sank to the floor, my trembling legs refusing to support my weight.
Gran had been adamant that my window was open, and now I believed her.
Someone had been in my room. Oh God, while Gran was in here! I closed my eyes and blew out a breath, thankful nothing worse had happened to Gran.
The footprint had to be at least a size twelve. I shook my head. It couldn’t have been the guy from the library. His feet weren’t that big. They would have stuck out like clown shoes on such a small guy. Who had been in my room then? And why did he take Ethan’s journal?
The realization that someone had been in my house and in my room freaked me out. I jumped up and ran downstairs to grab the carpet cleaner and scrub brush. I quickly sprayed the remover onto the stain on my carpet. While I scrubbed, I tried to focus, but my thoughts pinged all over the place.
All that work gone. The loss of Ethan’s journal, combined with the fact I hadn’t heard anything from him, even after several texts, left me feeling lost.
It’s like he’s slipping through my fingers, disappearing from my life. More like he’s being yanked out of my life!
The spot was already gone but I continued to scrub until my fingers began to ache. I fisted my hands on my knees to stop myself before I wore a hole in the carpet. I wanted to scream my frustration, but instead I locked my jaw and ground my teeth. When my breathing began to slow, another thought occurred: what if Gran had interrupted the person’s search? Would he come back?
I walked on shaky legs to my desk and picked up my phone. My hands trembled as I dialed the CVAS voice mail. “Hey Sally, it’s Nara,” I began, trying my best to sound calm. “If you’re still looking for someone to foster that dog, I can take him on a temporary basis. Let me know and I’ll swing by to pick him up tomorrow afternoon if that’s okay with you.” After my close call with almost getting shot, I didn’t think Mom would give me a hard time about the dog, so long as I kept him off the furniture while he was with us.
Once I set my phone down, I pressed my lips in a thin line. Even if I’d dreamed last night, I probably wouldn’t have seen this, since Ethan’s journal didn’t show up in my dreams. When I first started working on the book, it was part of my dreams, but then it just stopped one day. The fact I couldn’t see myself working on it was part of the allure of this project. I loved the first-time experience while at the same time creating a special present for Ethan.
I jerked my gaze around my room, scrutinizing it. If my room had been in pristine condition, it wouldn’t have taken me this long to figure out someone
had
been searching through it. With a burst of speed, I began a frenzied organization of every nook and cranny.
Three hours later, I inspected my super-organized room and desk with a critical eye so I’d know exactly how to reorganize it after Patch’s morning visits. Drawers, books, music CDs, pencil and paper holders, stapler, paperclip tray—everything was stacked or placed in such a way that I’d know if they’d been moved even a millimeter. After I triple-checked that my window was locked, I tucked my grandmother’s diary into my backpack to keep it close, then fell into bed, letting sheer exhaustion override my racing mind.
Chapter Fourteen
School dragged by in a foggy blur. Because I’d gone to bed so late, I’d only dreamed the first few hours of my day before the alarm clock rudely jerked me awake. I didn’t wake to a text from Ethan and even Patch seemed to have deserted me. I missed the bird’s crazy antics as I got dressed this morning. After the way Patch acted yesterday, dive-bombing me the way he did, I didn’t know if I’d ever see him or the other birds again.
The only highlight of my day was that I successfully found Erik Holtzman’s website and contact information using the library computer. Before the bell rang, ending study hall, I sent Mr. Holtzman an email asking if I could interview him for a school project.
As the end of school neared, my nerves wound tighter and tighter. I kept checking my phone, waiting for Ethan to respond, but I’d only received a voice mail from Sally confirming that she was thrilled I’d be fostering the dog, whom, she said, “I’ve affectionately named Houdini for his uncanny ability to slip his leash. He’s a wily one, Nara, just so you’re warned.”
When the final bell rang for the day, I walked out to the parking lot in the afternoon at a clipped pace. While I slid on the peach-colored sunglasses Ethan gave me—I needed the connection after hearing nothing from Ethan all day—I left a voice mail for Sally to let her know I’d be late picking up Houdini. I’d told Ethan in my text that he had until the end of the day today. As far as I was concerned, the day ended at six thirty. When Samson drove into his driveway from work, I’d be there to ask him if he’d heard from Ethan.
My phone rang just as I hung up from leaving Sally a message.
I stopped in the middle of the parking lot and immediately answered, my stomach fluttering. “Ethan!” I breathed out as people streamed past.