Mundahlia (The Mundahlian Era, #1) (7 page)

“What’s this?” I asked, looking at the magazines in my hand, and handing Mrs. Hatcher the schedule to sign.

Walking over to her desk, Mrs. Hatcher said, “From now until the next issues, these are your textbooks. Use it for research and bring them to class tomorrow. You only have a few weeks left to design and sew your pieces.” She paused for a moment to sip some tea from a cute white teacup with a matching saucer beneath it. “And for the record, don’t pay attention to what Vera has to say. I’ve seen her bully too many students. You remind me of a young Madam’ Hatcher. So different, so unique, so chic, so
bold
and unafraid to show your true colors!” She handed me the paper, “A true gem.” I shook her hand, which felt unnaturally soft. Almost like she’d dipped them into the fountain of youth. “Now run along, your next class is at the end of the other hallway.”

By the end of the day, I’d already picked my favorite classes. English, Design and Sew, and Office—where I didn’t have to do much but deliver messages from the office to the classrooms, since the building was so ancient and they didn’t have intercoms other than the large speaker at the center of the hallway that the old stub of a man that was the Principal used to say the morning messages and sing the Pledge of Allegiance. The messages varied from
Please send (name) to the principal’s office.
Or
Early Release for (name
) and so on. The other teachers were a little too strong for my taste. As if they knew everything in the world and loved rubbing it in our face. Unfortunately, I had
the stick
for three more classes. Oh well, I’m gonna have to learn to deal with that for the next three months.

Sure enough, I spotted George in his truck waiting out front, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of a song leaking from the open window.

“Hey, how was school?” he asked as soon as I hopped in the truck.

I thought of all the events that happened today. The confrontation with Vera, in which she made sure to stress that her name was pronounced
Vee-ruh
, and not
Veh-rah
. To me, I preferred the second pronunciation since it had
eh
in it, which is exactly how you feel after being around her for more than necessary. Just
eh
. As if she sucked the joy right out of you. Meeting Sarah was a highlight of today, but it was quickly shot down after getting assigned tons of homework from the teachers that didn’t make my favorite list. “Long,” I finally said. “Very long.”

“Well, it’s a good thing there’s only four more days till Friday then.” George switched the gear into drive and pulled away from the school parking lot. On the bright side, Sarah and I exchanged numbers. I could finally be able to text people again.

...

George and I began our search in the woods behind my cabin while the sun was still high in the sky. There were sounds of chirping birds and twigs as they snapped beneath our shoes. Tall evergreen trees enveloped us into a hidden world. A world where one might enter and never escape. If it weren’t for his sense of direction, we could have easily gotten lost. I felt a tad bit at ease knowing that George brought his shotgun just in case I was right and a vicious animal was prowling around these parts.

When we got to what I suspected was the middle—he stopped and looked around. From beside me, George set the gun between his legs and cupped his hands around his mouth. “
Aouuuuu!
” he yelled.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shooed away a pesky fly buzzing around my face.

He paused. “I’m howling to see if any wolves will come to the sound. “
Aouuuuuuu!”
he howled, louder than before. “You should try it, Rini.”

“Oh yes, because I
really
want to call for danger!” I’ll admit it, I may be just a tad bit over-sarcastic at times.

“No, but
you
are the one who wants to know if there are wolves here, so now’s your chance.”

Touché, Marine George. Touché

“Fine. But only once.” I took a deep breath and cupped my hands around my mouth to mimic George. “
Aouuuuu!
” I called, panning the forest.

Just then, a tiny grey headstone—hidden in cluster of distant shrubs, caught my attention. “What’s that?” I pointed and moved behind George as if something menacing were in front of us.

“Dunno. Let’s check it out.” George walked carelessly over to the headstone as if it were merely a ball that a child had kicked out of bounds. I followed close behind, catching the back of his heels a few times by accident.

“Sorry.”

As we neared, the dirt-encrusted words engraved into the grey, misshapen, and corroded stone became clear enough to read:

Zunicio “Zuni” Sarantos

“Little Warrior”

“What’d ya’ know.” George said, kneeling down to clear away some of the grime. The headstone was bare and secluded, as if it had been forgotten. No flowers or anything. Weeds had grown tall enough to cover it, and the grass had started forming over the stone itself. It was like no one cared for it anymore.

“Well Rini, I don’t see any wolves around here,” George said as he got up and brushed the dirt away from his knees. “Nothing, but a headstone.” He looked around the forest then back to me, “We’d better go, it’s getting late and usually
forest
and
darkness
don’t mix without spookiness.”

...

That night, after a hot shower, I lied awake with my book open on my chest and the volume of the TV as quiet as a whisper. I left it on to mask the noises of the cabin settling. I figured I’d rather hear the mumbles of dialogue on a show instead of
creeeeaaaak!
from the floorboards,
scratch, scratch,
from the branches outside, and
Bummmmmmmmmmm!
from when the air-conditioning unit started up again just outside my window.

I closed my eyes and sighed. No wolf was out there. Nothing but a forgotten headstone. Maybe it
was
just a dog like George had said. The lone stone clouded my mind. Why would someone just forget it? Had it been a vile person, no one would have even bothered engraving it.
Little Warrior
? What on earth does that mean? I had school in the morning and the clock was lit neon red with the numbers that made up
1:13 am
. I set my book and bottle of water aside and turned out the lamp. It took a while to fall asleep and enter my dreams. However, when I did, I could of sworn a soft howl sounded from the distance. And I heard it every night for the rest of the week. It was almost like a routine. Take a shower, turn on the TV so the scary noises won’t make you shiver in fear, sketch your outfits for class, read a few pages of a book, turn out the lamp and get ready to sleep. Then, knockout after hearing the howl of a wolf.

...

By the time Saturday morning rolled around, I had practically known Sarah’s entire life story. Literally. I found out Chansile Cafe was owned by her family and they have several chains in a few more cities across Texas. She even said they were looking for a waitress. I figured the extra money wouldn’t hurt so I told her to tell them I was
highly
interested. Then, she told me about all of her favorite things.
Hot guys, pizza, hot guys, music, hot guys, movies, Hot Topic, swimming, and did I say hot guys?
I found out many things over this past week. She’s quirky, like I predicted. But funny, friendly, and just plain awesome too. The things she says sometimes are just precious. She’s a total breath of fresh air after hearing jabs or getting ugly faces and smirks from
the stick
who made my first week adjusting to the new school pure hell. I swear she intentionally tripped me on Tuesday as I was heading into Design and Sew. Nobody’s foot would be
that
far out past the desk just as I was struggling and had my attention diverted to the vibrating phone in my purse. Bottom line? I fell, people laughed, I got up and held my head high—then cried to myself when I was alone, and got over it by Thursday.

I woke up at about nine o’ clock in the morning. The sky was
what-the-hell?
grey like cement, and I stepped into the bathroom to brush the morning breath away with minty toothpaste that tingled even after my teeth were squeaky clean. From my closet, I pulled a simple white tank top and short denim shorts to change into and made my way over to the backdoor of my cousins’ home with the key they had given me. George and Celeste were nowhere in sight and the lights were all off. I checked the living room—nope. I checked outside the front door—both cars were still there. I even went up the stairs to check the nursery, and nothing. The air conditioner inside started, and I heard a creak from their slightly open bedroom door as the newly flowing air pushed it open a little bit further.
That’s odd.

I tapped the door—wishing only after it was open, that I hadn’t. George was over Celeste and they were both sweating and—“Oh my god!” I shouted, immediately covering my eyes at the explicit scene. Celeste and George were
doing
it! And I had just walked in on it. They both looked over at me, the unintentional viewer, in shock.

“Get the hell out of here!” Celeste shouted, flinging a nearby pillow at the door. I was already ahead of them, dashing down the stairs and into the kitchen in shock myself.

Half an hour later, the couple walked into the kitchen and found me standing over the stovetop, cooking eggs. I had decided to cook breakfast for the family. It helped distract me by giving me something to do. George went to the fridge to grab two bottles of water and helped Celeste onto one of the stools in front of me. They both sat—staring at me. I was quiet, and focused my attention only to the eggs in the pan. Celeste uncapped her water and took a sip.

“Tough workout?” I said, keeping a serious face. Inside I was bursting into laughter. From the corner of my eye I saw George smile as he took a sip from his bottle.

Celeste looked like she was about to spit out the water, before swallowing it and wiping her mouth, “Rini, stop it!” she demanded in a low voice.

“Okay, geez.” I turned off the heat and placed some slices of bread in the six slice toaster. When they browned nice and crispy, I buttered them up and divided them amongst three plates alongside the eggs, handing both of them a plate and keeping mine in front of me. I, then fetched a dish of freshly cooked breakfast sausage and offered some to them. George took three slices and cut them up on his plate with the side of his fork. I moved over to Celeste, who looked at them and scrunched her nose up in disgust.

“What’s the matter? I thought you liked sausage in the morning.” I joked. Again George smiled.

“Unbelievable!” Celeste threw her hands up and took her plate to the table where she ate angrily and quiet. The silence didn’t aid the already awkward situation. My cellphone vibrated to life in my pocket.

New Text Message

Sarah (10:03am) :
Hey Girl! you got the job! Not that you had to doubt that you wouldn’t get it. You start 2morrow. I’ll be by to pick u up at about 6:00am sharp, send me the address. Lol.

You (10:05am):
Thanks!!! The address is 1509 Garett Lane. Save me plz!

Sarah (10:08am):
Cool Beans! Let me just put it on this map thingy to print out the directions. Por que? what happened?!?!?

You (10:10am)
: Cuz I just walked in on my cousins having sex and now it’s all awkward!

Sarah (10:15am):
Dayyyumm you live in the outskirts?! And ewwies :x

You (10:17am):
I know!! My cousin is REAL mad now. Lol.

Sarah (10:18am):
Lmao!

You (10:22am):
Ugh! I gotta go now cuz she wants to talk to me…

Sarah (10:23am):
Good luck Rini!! C ya Mañana! Lol

You (10:23am):
I hope so....

I slid the phone back in my pocket and headed over to Celeste who appeared as though she were practicing her speech in her mind.

“What you saw-” she began. Here we go.

To save an hour of going on and on about something that made me uncomfortable—I interrupted, “Was just a normal part of life that all people experience with their lovers. Blah, blah, blah. I get it, you both have needs and urges, all right?”

“All right,” Celeste agreed. “No more of your little jokes about it, okay?”

“Fine,” I said. “No more little jokes.”

After the
talk
, I exited the backdoor and headed for my cabin.

Spotting a bed of freshly bloomed flowers from Celeste’s garden—I paused. The multicolored silky petals were glittered with drops of fresh dew.
Would it be craz
y
if I put flowers on a stranger’s grave?
I thought to myself. I recalled how bad in shape the headstone was, nearly covered and forgotten into the earth. How could someone just forget about a headstone? The thought of mommy Gloria’s headstone being in the same bad shape unsettled me. I would never let that happen to hers and I’d want someone to tend to it when I wasn’t able to. With a swift yank, I ripped off a few of the different types of flowers—forming them into an arrangement. They were already off the plant, so I might as well do it. No sense in letting the beautiful flowers wilt for nothing.

Inside the cabin, I set the flowers in a small bucket—along with an old toothbrush, a pair of gloves, and a small bottle of water. I went out the back of the cabin and walked diligently into the lush forest, taking a few quick looks back at my home as it distanced with every step I took. The search George and I had done had proved that there were no wolves in the forest. Which was good, but just incase, I left a note saying where I’d be so I wouldn’t have to worry about getting bitten or mauled and dragged away to my death and not being found and given my own headstone.

I wandered around for what seemed like ages before I found the same cluster of shrubs I had spotted the headstone in before. Sitting on the floor Indian-style, I began sprucing up the stone. A twig snapped somewhere close. There was nothing around me when I snuck a quick glance.
Okay?
I shrugged it away and put on the gloves.