Midnight on Strange Street, page 12
She’d been upset with Avery the night before, when she’d suggested that Nando might have something to do with the silver suits. The truth was, Lola herself had been bothered by the way Nando had left home. He’d been so secretive, so on edge…as though he had something to hide.
But that’s what it’s like to work for the government, Lola told herself. It’s nothing to be suspicious of.
She’d known Nando her entire life. Maybe he was moodier than usual, but he was still her brother, and she trusted him. And now, as she met Avery’s hazel eyes, the remainder of her bad feeling faded away.
Lola smiled, and when she did, Avery’s thoughts poured out with more confidence: You know, you don’t have to tether us if you don’t want. Dani’s got big ideas, but that doesn’t mean you have to go along with them. You do what’s right for you.
Lola studied the sunlit cityscape, squinting in thought. I know, she said after a while. I’ve thought it through, though. I want to help. I’m still scared, I guess, but…I’m a little excited, too?
Avery nodded. Yeah, I get that.
That’s when Lola got the idea to try something new. An investigation. Pressing her tongue against her teeth, she envisioned a memory of herself throwing a Frisbee for Radar in Avery’s backyard. Then, carefully, she attempted to send the memory Avery’s way.
“Huh,” said Avery, pressing a hand to her forehead.
Lola’s breath hitched. “What?” she asked hopefully.
Avery shook her head, looking dazed. “Was that you?”
Lola grinned. “It worked,” she said. “You saw it?”
“It was blurry,” Avery said. “But I knew it was from you. A memory, right? You and Radar together.”
Lola nodded, a thrill racing down her arms.
Bastian and Dani came over to where the girls were standing, but Lola didn’t want to tell them about the success of her investigation just yet. She wanted to keep the memory between her and Avery—something special, shared by the two of them. And Avery, it seemed, felt the same way.
In silence, the Sardines looked out over their city.
“Sometimes,” whispered Lola, “I feel like I could fly. Like there are wings inside me, even when I’m not on my board.”
She wasn’t sure what she was saying. She was probably too pepped with adrenaline, speaking nonsense the others would laugh at her for. Nobody laughed, though. They kept staring down on Callaway, and Avery replied, “Sometimes I feel that way, too.”
Lola didn’t respond; she only smiled. Under her ribs, in the blue-flame place, sparks showered down. Maybe the Sardines were different, with their tele-whatevers. Maybe they were on a mission to stop aliens from destroying the planet. But for now? They could free skate. For now, they could be regular kids.
Avery was about to punch in the code to the securipad when she realized the back door was cracked open.
“Mom?” she called, walking into the kitchen.
From upstairs, Radar barked excitedly. He scampered down the stairs and ran for Avery, wagging his tail in a frenzy. Avery knelt, petting him and planting kisses on his head. Then she pulled back and gave Radar a somber once-over.
If you could understand me, you would think back, wouldn’t you?
Radar barked twice. But did two barks mean yes or no?
Or nothing at all?
“Hey, sweetie.” Ms. Sills walked into the kitchen, phone in hand.
“You got off work early,” Avery said, giving Radar one final, cautious pat.
“More like on time, for once.” Her mother laughed ruefully. “This overtime is killing me. But it’s our busiest season. Shouldn’t last much longer.” She reached Avery, drawing her into a big, swaying hug.
Radar jumped beside them.
“I promise, hon,” she said, planting a kiss on Avery’s head, “July will be better. We’ll do all sorts of summery things. The pool, Putt-Putt, maybe even a weekend getaway? Just you and me, girl.”
Avery nodded. “I’d like that a lot. I feel like…”
Like you’re never here, Avery wanted to say, but she stopped short. Saying that would only make her mom feel worse, and Avery knew she couldn’t help the overtime at her marketing agency. Avery had learned to make the most of nights like this, which were fewer and farther between since they’d moved to Callaway.
“Can we order a pizza?” Avery asked.
Ms. Sills grinned so wide that dimples formed in her cheeks. She held up the phone. “It’s like you’re reading my mind.”
Avery grinned back, but inside she felt like someone had punched her right in the kidneys.
Like you’re reading my mind.
Avery sat at the kitchen counter as her mom called Pizza Palace.
“Yes, extra cheese and extra sauce,” Ms. Sills said, shooting Avery a conspiratorial wink. “A two-liter comes with that? Then of course we’ll take it! What kind? Uh, we’ll have…” Ms. Sills motioned to Avery for a suggestion.
In a split second, Avery decided to try. If her mom could hear her thoughts, that would mean they were connected somehow. It would mean that Avery wasn’t a freak, that she and the Sardines weren’t the only ones.
Dr Pepper, Avery thought, desperately pushing the thought out toward her mother.
Ms. Sills blinked. She raised her brows expectantly. “Hon?” she whispered loudly. “What do we want to drink?”
She hadn’t heard. Of course not.
Avery mumbled, “Dr Pepper, I guess.”
Ms. Sills shot a thumbs-up. “Dr Pepper. Yes, and could we order an extra cup of garlic sauce? Oh, and what the heck, some more marinara sauce, too. Do you have that spicy kind? Arrabbiata? Yes! Perfect.”
It’s not exactly perfect, Avery thought. You don’t know who I am. I don’t know who I am. Extra garlic sauce won’t fix that.
The garlic sauce didn’t fix anything, that was true, but it did make Avery and her mom pretty happy, at least for the moment. They licked grease off their fingertips as an old movie played on television. And because Ms. Sills insisted that Avery eat a vegetable, even on pizza night, they finished off their meal by chomping on celery sticks.
“A palate cleanser!” Ms. Sills declared, dipping her celery into a big cup of ranch dip.
Avery liked when her mother joked around and wasn’t talking on the phone about credit card bills, or locked in her home office, typing away at a work project. For now, she and Avery could stuff themselves silly and laugh at the goofiest parts of the movie. When the next round of commercials began, though, Ms. Sills muted the television. She had a suddenly serious look on her face.
“Vee,” she said, “your father called this morning.”
Avery’s throat went dry. “Huh,” she said, picking at a stringy bit of celery.
“He says he emailed you.”
“Yeah.”
“And you didn’t write back.”
Avery sniffed. “I’ve been busy.”
“Vee.”
“What?”
“We’ve talked about this before, sweetie. Just because your father and I don’t get along anymore, that doesn’t mean—”
“Well, what am I supposed to write? ‘Okay, wow, you can’t visit again. Big surprise.’”
“Vee.”
“What?!”
“Your father still—”
“He’ll never visit,” Avery interrupted angrily. “He doesn’t care. He’s got all these exciting projects, so why does he need me? He didn’t even fight to get, like, one iota of custody, and—and—”
Avery suddenly felt much too full.
“Vee.” Her mom squeezed Avery’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. You know I didn’t ever want you to take sides in this divorce, and I told myself I’d never speak ill of your father. But…canceling again, it isn’t right. I told him that. I told him everything he was going to miss. You’re an amazing kid. He should appreciate that. And…I hope you know, just because I can’t always make it to your events, that doesn’t mean I’m not rooting for you. I am. I brag about you to my coworkers, just ask.”
Avery smiled a little, but the blue flame still burned.
“He offered to reschedule,” her mom said very softly. “He says he can come in August.”
Avery thought about it. Then she said, “I don’t want him to come.”
“Sweetie, I—”
“You can tell him that: I don’t want him to come ever. He’d only make everything terrible again.”
“Vee,” her mom said gently. “What do you mean?”
Avery slumped into the couch and glanced up to find that none other than Mr. Carl Jensen, the King of Callaway, was on the television screen, advertising a popular Gloworks, Inc. gadget: the hoverstand. The commercial cut to a white screen, bright with the bold yellow words GLOWORKS: THE FUEL OF THE FUTURE. Avery scowled, trying to form an answer to her mother’s question.
“He doesn’t get me,” she finally said. “At school, he didn’t stand up for me. He took Principal Grisham’s side. And he didn’t even ask me what happened first. He assumed it was my fault. And it wasn’t. And that—that wasn’t right.” Avery wiped hot tears from her eyes. She didn’t want to cry about her father. She didn’t want to think about him at all.
Her mom wrapped an arm around Avery’s back. “I know that hurt, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”
Avery didn’t want to think about Katelyn Sumner, either, but every bad thing that had happened in LA, before the move, bubbled to the surface of her mind: the rumor Katelyn had spread all around the sixth grade; their confrontation in the girls’ bathroom; Katelyn’s big, unbelieving eyes as the faucets shook and then flew from their sinks, water bursting out all around them, the broken mirrors and chipped yellow tile.
Katelyn had blamed it on Avery. She’d claimed that she’d overheard Avery planning to vandalize the bathroom, and that she’d seen her do it with her own eyes. The adults had believed Katelyn, and her dad had believed the adults. Avery had been suspended and scheduled for therapist visits, to work on controlling her anger.
Then Avery had moved away with the one person who didn’t think she was guilty of anything.
The trouble was, Avery was guilty—just not in the way that anyone else thought. She had vandalized the bathroom, but not on purpose, and not with her hands. It had happened in a burst, all the anger welling inside, fueling that hot blue flame. She’d been as shocked as Katelyn. But what Katelyn didn’t understand was that Avery couldn’t control it, and that she was just as scared. No one understood. Especially not her dad.
“Dad doesn’t get me,” Avery said again, with more resolve. “And I’m fine without him. I don’t want to see him again.”
“That’s your decision to make,” Ms. Sills said after a moment of quiet. “But why don’t you sleep on it, okay? If you feel the same way in the morning, I’ll call and tell him whatever you want me to.”
Avery curled into her mother’s side, breathing in the scent of garlic and cinnamon. “Okay.”
“Vee.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you happy here? In Callaway?”
Avery peered up at her mom. “Yeah. I am.”
“I loved growing up here; this town holds a lot of memories for me. Coming back felt right. It felt almost—well, you’ll think this is weird, but it felt like I was being drawn by magnetic force. Sometimes I forget, though, that you don’t share my nostalgia. I know this has been tough. These past few years haven’t been easy, Vee, but…we’re going to make it through.”
“Yeah, Mom.” Avery gave a small smile. “I know.”
The television image flickered, breaking up.
Then a sharp pain sliced across Avery’s eye.
“Ow.” Avery pressed a hand to her forehead.
“Sweetie?” Her mother looked at her in concern.
The television flickered more strongly, cutting the movie into strips of fuzzy black and white. Then the sound came back on, and the channel switched entirely. Pictures of tanks and fast-flying planes filled the screen. A reporter appeared, shouting over an engine’s roar about the deployment of troops, enlisted through the newly instated draft.
“What on earth?” Ms. Sills grabbed the remote and pressed at its buttons.
Avery sank into the couch cushions, her eyes transfixed on the screen. The image there was changing again, taking on a familiar form. Avery saw herself on the television with Dani, Bastian, and Lola, all of them huddled together in Cedar House, around a blazing blue column. This memory was recent. Very recent.
Static filled Avery’s ears. She winced, shaking her head, trying to free her mind of the sound, but then she began to make out a voice. A woodwind melody.
We will come for you at the time we came before. On the day when…sun…the end…
The static grew louder, drowning out the voice.
“No!” Avery cried, jumping to her feet. She ran to the television, placing her hands on the screen, but the image there—her memory—was fading away, too. Wait! Avery tried with all her might to reach out with her thoughts. Don’t stop yet. I know what time you mean, but what day? When?
Avery covered her ears. She shut her eyes. She tried to concentrate. Everything was suddenly too loud.
Then the sound cut out, and the pain in Avery’s head vanished.
She opened her eyes to find that the television screen had gone dark. Across the room, her mother held the remote close to her chest, breathing hard.
“What in God’s name was that?” she whispered.
Avery realized that her hands were trembling. She dropped them from the TV. “I—I don’t know. Did you…see it?”
“I saw a news broadcast that I absolutely did not tune in to,” Ms. Sills said, tapping the remote. “This cable company is the worst. I’ll give them a call.”
“A news broadcast,” Avery said slowly. “That’s it?”
Ms. Sills met Avery’s eyes. “Hon? Are you all right?”
“Y-yeah,” Avery said. “Sorry. It’s just annoying. I really liked that movie.”
Her mom smiled sympathetically. “It looks like the cable’s out for now. Why don’t you pick a DVD? I’ll call and find out what the problem is tomorrow, I promise.”
“Sure,” Avery said. “Sounds good.”
But guilt was pooling inside her, the same as it had been in the principal’s office, all those months ago. This wasn’t a cable problem. This was her problem.
The aliens had given her a message: They would come for the Sardines at the time they had come before, in Cedar House.
Midnight.
“Midnight? Midnight when?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you: The message broke up before I could figure it out. All I heard was something about ‘sun’ and ‘the end.’” Avery shivered, even though the sun was beating down on Hazard Hill.
Bastian felt like shivering, too. He wasn’t sure he wanted an answer to his question. What if the when was a week from now? What if it was tomorrow? Or today? He may have had a plan to talk to the aliens, but he didn’t exactly feel like meeting them yet. Not for a while. Actually, not ever would’ve been great.
“Okay, let’s think,” said Dani. She looked around the circle of Sardines, who’d gathered at the top of the racetrack for practice. “We know three things for sure: midnight, Hazard Hill, and…eradication.”
Avery shivered again.
Lola whimpered, “I don’t want to think about any of this.”
“Too bad,” Dani said. “Because whether we want to think about it or not, aliens are contacting us, and obviously, they think we’re smart enough to put this message of theirs together.”
Bastian picked at the shoelace of his left sneaker. Aliens were contacting the Sardines—that is, every Sardine but him. He was the only one left who hadn’t received a weird memory message. But maybe that was a good thing. If he’d worked on his memories enough by the time the aliens contacted him, maybe he could convince them single-handedly to not blow up Earth.
“So,” Dani said, “how do we feel?”
Bastian looked up, at a loss. “How do we feel about what?”
“Your plan, obviously,” Dani said through a huff. “Do we really think this memory communication stuff is going to work?”
Bastian sighed. Why did Dani have to make everything an almost fight?
Maybe you’re jealous, he wanted to say, because I came up with a plan before you did.
Rather than talk, though, Bastian thought. And rather than think in words, he thought in pictures. He conjured the memory he’d been working on in his spare time: his tenth birthday, on the Gil family’s vacation to the Grand Canyon. He pictured the vast expanse of giant red ravines, envisioned the open blue sky and shimmering sun, recalled the fresh cantaloupe his father had cut into for their picnic. Then he took each of those images and pushed it, resolutely, toward Dani’s mind.
Dani opened her mouth. She stared at Bastian, panicked at first, then comprehending.
“Whoa,” she said, touching her forehead.
“You see it?” Bastian asked, excited. He hadn’t attempted to share a memory until now; he hadn’t even tried it out with Lola.
“So it can work,” Dani said.
Now it was Bastian’s turn to be huffy. “I told you it would.”
“Lola and I have been practicing, too,” Avery piped up. She looked to Lola, smiling. “Things are still kind of fuzzy right now, but we can definitely share pictures. It’s a start.”
At that moment, an image appeared in Bastian’s mind: a brand-new glowboard under a pair of yellow sneakers—Dani’s sneakers. Then the image flickered and disappeared.
Bastian smirked at Dani. “See? Even you can do it.”
“Ha, ha,” Dani said humorlessly. “Of course I can; I’ve been practicing. But just because we can send memories doesn’t mean it’ll work on the aliens. Do you really think we can convince them that way?”
“Well,” Lola said, “what else can we do?”
Dani didn’t have an answer for that. “Whatever,” she mumbled. “We’re wasting time now. The only thing left to do is wait for the aliens’ next message.”
“And work on our memories,” Bastian added. “I think we should make a point to do it every day, before practice. Memory tests. We each share one memory. That’ll keep them fresh.”
