~Storyteller
A Mysterious
Sign
Mom, of course, wanted to know everything that
happened, especially since we hadn’t been there when she’d come to pick us up.
But first of all, she said, I needed to have a good night’s sleep.
Early the next morning, Mom
woke me up to have me tell them all about it. I’ve never lied, especially not
to my parents, so I told them everything that happened. When I told her how
we’d had to run away from Sam and his gang, she gasped.
“Bullies!” she cried, tugging on
Dad’s arm. “Asa, there’s bullies at Jess’s school!”
Dad’s brow furrowed. “I heard
her, dear. We’ll have to go talk to the principal about that. I’m not going to
have Jessica get beaten up.”
I sighed. I’d forgotten, in that
short day, that they called me two different names. How could I forget? Maybe
because I just loved Jessie so much. Or maybe because of Sam. It’s anybody’s
guess.
“I’m calling her
principal right away,” Mom declared, running off the couch for the phone and
beating Dad to it. She dialed a number and held the phone to her ear. “I’m not
going to have our darling Jess get beaten up.” She looked up as somebody on the
other end said something. “Yes, this is Mrs. Freeman. I’d like to speak to Doug
Black, please.”
I sighed and started to
walk to my room to grab my backpack for school when Dad caught my arm.
“Jessica,” he started, “I think that Jake wanted to see you and Logan after
school. He even offered to take you home again.”
“Take me home?” I wondered if
I hoped he would hear the horror behind the question or not.
“Yes,” Dad nodded, “and we’ve
agreed. You guys are going to have supper over at his house. He just wanted to
get to know you guys better.” He shrugged. “He’s such a nice old man, and since
he saved your life and all…”
Oh. My. Word. Dad, what are you sentencing me to?!
Mom drove Logan and I to school
again. When we got dropped off at the school’s door, Logan looked left and
right for Sam, Hunter, and Calvin, and then quickly pulled me through the doors.
“What was that all about?” I snorted as he
pulled me towards our first class.
“You heard your mom,” Logan snorted
right back. “She’s gone and tattled to the principal. And we’re really dead
meat.” He shrugged. “I’m just taking extra precautions.” He grinned. “For your
sake, of course.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Right.”
School went by faster than I’d thought it would.
Maybe because I was dreading going past Sam; or maybe it was because I was
dreading having to get picked up by old Jake Schmitz and driven to his house
for dinner. I don’t know which. You choose.
Logan, however, seemed more excited.
“Remember what you said about something more?” he prodded. “Well maybe we can
find out something by going.”
I wasn’t going to be excited
until I found something. And I definitely hadn’t found anything yet. Yet, mind
you.
The bell rang, and Logan and I
collected our books and started for the door. Since Jake knew about Sam and his
gang, we’d figured that he’d arrive early, anyways. It seemed we were right as
I saw the battered truck parked, waiting, by the curb.
“Hop on in, kids!” he called
through the open window.
We did just that, me squishing
in between them. Jake drove off, starting to talk.
“I’m so glad you’re coming,” he
grinned. “I went and ordered pizza for all of us. You guys like pepperoni?”
“Love it!” cried Logan.
I managed a smile. “I
like supreme the best, but pepperoni’s my second favorite.”
Jake nodded. “Fair enough.
Hey, you guys having any more trouble from Sam and those other kids?”
“Nope,” answered Logan.
Jake nodded. I frowned.
It was almost as if it was all the old man’s doing. Now that I thought of it, I
hadn’t seen any of the bullies all day. That was strange. Really strange.
We finally reached Rain
Heights and drove through the town. I saw my house and longed for it, even
though I didn’t really like it was it was. It was definitely going to be better
than Jake’s house, I decided.
“There’s the Sinclair!”
cried Logan, pointing towards the tiny gas station that was barely even being
able to be called a gas station.
“And there’s my house,” Jake
smiled proudly, pointing towards a small cottage on the other side of the
Sinclair, half-hidden by weeds. “Hideaway Cottage.”
Lovely.
Jake screeched the truck
to a halt and we all got out, stumbling towards the cottage through the tall
weeds (I found out they were almost up to my waist!). Jake grinned as he held
open the door proudly.
“My beauty.”
We walked inside. There was a hall
that led down to a bigger room. Hundreds of photographs and certificates filled
the walls. I found out that Jake was certified to do plumbing, lighting, and to
fly planes. Wow. I glanced at the old guy. He definitely didn’t look it.
“Come on!” he
urged, going faster than I’d ever thought an old guy could into the next room.
The room had a table with chairs and
a small kitchen off to the side. Every available surface was cluttered—books,
papers, pens, pencils, containers, clothes…anything I could ever think of was
lying just about everywhere. There was a pathway through the junk to the
kitchen, table, and another door that I supposed went to his room.
“The pizza’s in here!”
Jake called from the kitchen. “Since the dining room’s kinda full, let’s eat it
in here, OK?”
Way not OK. I followed Logan
into the kitchen.
It looked like he hadn’t
cleaned anything for years. At least we weren’t using one of the grim-crusted
plates that sat in the sink for the pizza. Jake handed us the now-cold pizza in
paper towels (thankfully they weren’t used).
“Yep, this is my home
sweet home,” nodded Jake. “How do you guys like it?”
“It’s awesome!” cried
Logan. Guys. Always messy.
“It’s very nice,”
I managed, quickly biting off another hunk of pizza to keep from having to talk
more.
“I’m glad you like it.” Jake
chewed off half of the pizza and swallowed it whole. Logan couldn’t stop
staring.
We quickly finished our pizza. Logan
and Jake were off talking about something and I wandered into the living room.
This guy seriously needed to get married or having a housekeeper or something.
It was more of a mess than I’d thought before.
I accidentally stepped on a book and
stepped back. I glanced at it curiously, and then titled my head. I couldn’t
read the title quite, so I picked it up. My eyes traced across the front.
101 Tips for
the Experts! The
experts of what? I frowned and opened the book, curious.
I gulped. It
wasn’t a book. The inside was hollow, stuffed with what looked like passports,
an old gun, compass, and a smaller book. With a trembling hand, I moved past
the gun and picked up the book. My eye caught something on the cover that made
me drop everything.
…by Ace Montana,
Senior Spy.
Oh. My. Word.
Hey. My dad's a spy, too! {just kidding . . . I would own about 1034802984 more AG dolls if he was. And our house would be much cooler. *sigh*}
ReplyDeletehahahaha =D
DeleteI guess i'm a little behind.....What book is this? Thx ; )
ReplyDeleteNoelle : )
Hey, Noelle! This is my book, For Every Person, There Is a Story. You can find more of it by clicking the label For Every Person There Is a Story, or by looking for it in the blog archive. Bye!!
Delete~Storyteller
That is sooooo awesome that u wrote this!!! U r such a good writer ; )
DeleteNoelle : )
Thanks. :)
Delete