Celestial Bodies

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

“An adventure is an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered”

–G.K. Chesterson—

 

Somewhere on the outskirts of Pennington Heights there is a hill. Though it was officially called Star Watching Hill, everyone called it Make-out Hill as that was the best place for a romantic… whatever. Of course, because of this, the majority of the people who frequented that hill did not have their eyes on the skies most of the time. Which is perhaps why no one noticed that one of the falling stars in the Leonid shower that Friday night had leveled off about a mile over the trees then lowered into the forest.

No one saw it leave either.

Further in, Pennington Forest also had a lot of campgrounds. Some had space enough for a Winnebago to park. Then there were the campgrounds you had to hike to. Getting there was equal to an epic journey into Mordor, as some put it. They also had bad cell reception… which is why few ventured that far into Pennington Forest, even on the weekends. Which is also why when Zormna Clendar first arrived, no one noticed.

She stood alone in one of the campsites next to a damp campfire pit, feeling the evening moisture collect on her face, clothes, and hair. It was not something she was used to. None of it was.

She had never gone camping before.

She had never really been alone before, except as a latch-key kid in an apartment a very long time ago.

Zormna stared mournfully at the stars overhead, watching as the meteors fell. The night animals—crickets and creeping things—which had been silent after the rush of noise that had disturbed their habitat, began to sing again. And she shivered.

It was damp. And it grew damper with spring dew the longer she stood there.

But Zormna did not want to move. Her eyes remained on the sky.

After something like a half hour, she drew in a deep breath and heavily sighed. It took every ounce of her strength to take her eyes off the stars and focus them on the dark woods around her. And it took more strength to put one foot in front of the other to go into the forest path. Through dense foliage—tripping on roots and rocks and uneven ground for a long, arduous while—she eventually made her way to the edge of town. By that time, most of the stargazers on Make-out Hill were already gone.

This is where she hesitated.

Civilization.

That meant dealing with people very different than those she had grown up with.

But she didn’t have much of a choice. What was done was done. She was there, and there was no going back.

So, as to not draw attention to herself, Zormna surveyed the couples on the hill, and continued down faster. The twosomes that remained there were too wrapped up in the euphoria of the evening to notice her anyway.

She slipped twice on the wet grass as she descended to the dirt road, and landed a third time in a shallow mud puddle. It hurt. Rubbing her backside, Zormna cursed under her breath.

Looking up at the sky again, likely to curse that too, she heaved another breath for strength and got up. She clutched her few belongings to her chest. All of it fit inside a medium-sized cloth travel bag. When she finally reached asphalt where houses stood and streetlights shone light on the scenery, she extracted from her pocket a folded scrap of paper containing important information. Then she searched for a street sign.

She unfolded the paper.

“O… Skavi!” The writing was unintelligible, soaked in mud, the ink had smeared. It was one brownish, blackish-blue blob. And in the bad light, there was no way she could make any of it out.

“Tch!” She crumpled the note, resisting the urge to swear again.  

Her eyes lifted to the curb where a car was parked. She peered to the houses beyond it, then the trees, shrubs and lawn… the flowerbeds, all deepening with shadows in the darkness.

Laughter drifted from Make-out Hill.

Looking back quickly, she spotted a pair of lovers trotting down the muddy slope side by side, still kissing. They hardly looked around themselves to notice she was there as she retreated towards the shadows behind a squared hedge. She waited until they passed. The lovers got into the car, started the engine, and took off into the road.

She was alone again.

Once more, Zormna lifted her eyes to the signpost at the end of the road, staring at it forlornly. The dark around her had deepened. And she could tell from the night sounds that it was getting late.

And colder.

She sneezed.

That was when the feeling of total abandonment overwhelmed her. And though she hated crying, tears blurred her vision.

What was she to do now?

Zormna stared at the sign, unmoved, for quite a while. Then, wiping away the damp from her face with the back of her hand, she closed her eyes. Breathing in, breathing out… Zormna Clendar drew up her shoulders, heaved in another breath and put one foot in front of the other.

Saturday morning.

Jennifer McLenna trotted from the side kitchen door down the concrete steps to the weather-cracked cement of the family’s driveway. Her usual weekend jog was practically a religious ritual. Trotting towards the black pavement as the sun was just rising over the nearby mountains, she tossed her reddish ponytail off the back of her neck and grinned to herself. Her thoughts floated through the plans for the day.

Have a good run. Go home. Shower. Then maybe later she’d go to the mall or call her boyfriend, Kevin. They could meet up that evening for a date. Her parents had not let her go out with him that Friday to watch the meteor shower—paranoid to the extreme, as usual.  

Running down familiar streets with all too familiar names, Jennifer went into autopilot. Past Mr. Harker’s perfectly trimmed lawn and matching hedge with unnaturally sharp edges, Mrs. Nelson’s geraniums that were just blooming while her tulips were starting to lose flower, while Tommy Whitaker rode by on his bicycle, tossing rolled up issues of the Daily Lamplight—Pennington’s local newspaper. She hurried past Mrs. Parken’s back window where the woman was spying on her neighbors as always. The woman was dressed in her pink bathrobe, sipping her coffee.

Jennifer tried to keep off the street, of course. Often her older brother’s friends zoomed by in the back of Alex Streigle’s truck, aching to pester her. She looked left then right before crossing two-lane Oak Street to the red-brick four-story building that was Pennington High School. The track was open for use on weekends.

In a jog over the grass, she hopped the curb, taking the foot-trod path to the low fence. Dew coated most of the lawn. It made the concrete a little slick. With her eye on the top bar of the low chain link fence, Jennifer sped up. And her grin spread. She had the guts. It was now time for the glory. Today would be the day she would clear that fence in one fantastic leap. She had seen Phoebe Hills do it, and Jennifer was better at hurdles than she was. No chickening out. One clean jump.

Ten yards.

Her eyes scanned the parking lot to make sure it was free of cars.

Five yards.

No one was on the track. Good. She had it all to herself.

Three yards.

But someone was on the bleachers.

Jennifer skidded to a stop.

Her body slapped into the chain link. The metal rattled with a shaking clang. Blown it!

Lifting her eyes up, Jennifer peered at the person in the stands with disgust. At that distance, all Jennifer could see was the peach shade of the person’s clothes, topped by a fiery crop of goldish-colored hair. A child maybe? Whoever it was didn’t look that large.

Well, Jennifer thought, she did come to jog, even though her solitude was spoiled.

She walked to the open gate in the low fence and broke back into a trot towards the school track. One eye remained on the watcher in the stands. And that person was watching her. Jennifer could feel it. It was unnerving, in fact. Annoying, really. She hated people watching her sweat. Basically, she was afraid they would see saw fat jiggle on her gut.

And so, she jogged in the opposite direction.

Maybe that person would get the hint and leave.

But it was a false hope. As Jennifer rounded the oval dirt path for the first lap, she lifted her head to get another look at the person sitting on their stadium steps who seemed to be mentally planning what she had to do. Perhaps it was someone she knew. A classmate early for a track meet perhaps? She could nod, make polite small talk, then forget about it later.

When Jennifer eventually circled the track, she looked up.

In the morning light, the sun haloed around this onlooker’s mop of gold and strawberry curls. For a second, Jennifer thought she was staring at Aphrodite herself, the envy of all women.

And that’s when Jennifer tripped.

It was so embarrassing. But Jennifer caught her feet fast enough and continued to jog on. But her face grew as hot as the sun, and not from exertion.

Yet she blinked up at the person in the stands, taking in what had made her trip. A young woman. Broad almond eyes, rich green and blinking under reddish-gold eyelashes. Bow-shaped lips pursed together in a thinking line—pensive. Porcelain skin. With hair curling like the flames of the sun itself, including long solar flare-like strands hanging in front of her ears. It was no one she knew. The girl was too stunning—just the kind of girl Jennifer automatically hated.

The strange girl had a weird haircut, Jennifer decided. And she continued jogging. And the girl really wasn’t that pretty. Her face was a little too angular. And too pale. She could be a vampire. And her chin—it was one of those butt-chins with the cleft in the center. Yeah, Jennifer thought peevishly. And perhaps she was just waiting for Jennifer to bow at her feet, thinking she was all that.

Fixing her eyes on the track, Jennifer continued on, contemplating for the slightest of moments to forget her exercise for the day and go home.

At least she tried to.

The blonde rose from her seat, revealing that she was hardly taller than Jennifer’s eleven-year-old brother Andrew. Five feet, maybe. And the girl descended the stadium steps on thin, well-formed legs, which Jennifer envied. In fact, the girl’s shape was perfectly balanced. It was sickening actually how impeccably pieced-together this girl was. This girl was built with all femininity—not like a super model with those extra-long thin legs and chest, but balanced with a bust that fit her hips, waist and derriere. If her older brother had been there, he would have said the girl was an ultra hottie with a body.

Ugh. She definitely was too beautiful.

Jennifer glanced back to the gate again. Jogging in front of such a girl watching her imperfect, flawed, grotesquely immature body was not the way she wanted to start the day. One lap was sufficient. She could make up for it later once the freak of nature was gone.

Rounding the track, Jennifer attempted to make a clean pass. Unfortunately, the blonde had stepped down to the track in a manner to get her attention. Then the girl stepped in her way.

Jennifer veered to the right to go by.

“Excuse me,” the girl called after her. The girl’s voice lilted like a fairy from a fantasy movie. Perfect. “Excuse me, but could you stop and help me for a moment?”

Oh crap. What did Miss Perfect want?

Up close, Miss Perfect had this plaintive, almost lost-puppy look to her nearly Asian-yet-green eyes. Her accent was definitely not American English. Australian maybe? There was an exotic quality to it.

And that made Jennifer curious. So, she slowed down, catching her breath. “What do you want?”

With a prim nod, hope lifting in her gaze, the impossibly bewitching girl said in what didn’t really sound Australian, “I am sorry, but can you help me find my great aunt’s house? I am lost.”

Jennifer blinked. Lost. Really? Already she was intrigued.

She watched the girl dig into this peach duffle bag she was carrying. It exactly matched the pajama-like outfit the girl was wearing, which was weird. The girl extracted a wrinkled, yet folded piece of paper, then proceeded to pry apart the damp pages. Water stains covered half of it.  The ink bled straight through, if not off the page entirely. Holding it out, the girl shrugged with embarrassment.

“I have this address,” she said. “But I cannot read it.” She had a peculiar accent on her R’s. Her vowels also didn’t sound right. No, it wasn’t Australian, or Cockney. Scottish possibly?

Jennifer shrugged as she reached for the paper. Turning it around, she peered at the water-damaged writing. Half of the marks were some kind of Chinese. Or at least Jennifer guessed it was Chinese. It could have been Japanese for all she knew. Or Korean. It ran top-to-bottom in vertical rows, full of slashes and checks and funny shaped A’s. The other half was in English—but the handwriting was warped, like it was from someone who had studied the language but never grew up with it. Unfortunately, most of the letters were half missing, the ink entirely gone because of the wet.

“I am supposed to find a house on the corner of… I think it is called… Hayzzz and Dah-rrrr-ling Streets.” This blonde was clearly not entirely up there in the head. Her eyes were in-the-headlights wide.

Choking down a laugh, Jennifer said, “Ah. That’s Hayes and Darling Streets. And this isn’t it.”

The girl looked around at the stadium, track, and school. Her dry expression said: ‘I figured that much, thanks.’

Ok, so she wasn’t a ditz. Jennifer chuckled to herself. That part was reassuring. Dumb blondes were annoying.

“Can you tell me where it is?” the girl asked, again her accent oddly familiar, R-emphasized, yet obviously not American. Probably Scottish. Most likely Scottish. Though—and Jennifer hoped this—maybe Irish.

Sighing, Jennifer peered at the smudged-up paper again. Her mind went back to her lost run. Clearly this girl was the type that demanded attention. Pretty girls were like that, of course. High maintenance. Though examining this girl’s face, Jennifer noticed the blonde was not wearing any makeup. And her clothes—a piece peach outfit with a matching duffle bag? Obviously, she wasn’t a reader of Vogue.

“Where are you from?” Jennifer asked this stranger.

The girl winced with a look to the sky. “Ireland.”

Hearing that, Jennifer’s heart jumped excitedly.

“Ireland. Really?” Hopping closer, Jennifer grinned, a thousand questions bursting from her. “My ancestors are from Ireland. Where in Ireland are you from? Mine are from Carlingford. Well, not recently, but anciently. My folks grew up in Dublin. Have you ever been there?”

The girl backed away slowly, hands up. She appeared inclined to run away, so much that Jennifer apologetically stepped back.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never met another Irishman, uh, I mean woman, before… You know, besides my folks and stuff.” Jennifer ducked her head between her shoulders to show she was harmless. “But hey, I can help you find the place you are looking for. I can even get you there.”

Perking up, the girl stopped retreating. She nodded, her face saying: This will do without even a word. Jennifer wondered what went on in that blonde head. Despite being eye-catching, yet short, this girl carried about a presence that said she had seen a lot. Definitely no ditz. She had to respect that.  

“I’m Jennifer McLenna.” Jennifer stuck out her hand.

The girl tentatively took it, gripping Jennifer’s palm as if trying to get the feel of the gesture. She didn’t have one of those wet-fish handshakes, but it wasn’t a solid businessman handshake either. And the girl let go as soon as possible.

“Zormna,” the girl said.

Jennifer blinked, not sure she heard the girl right. “What?”

Sighing much like an adult too tired to deal with things, the girl said, “My name. It is Zormna. Zormna Clendar.”

Admittedly, Jennifer stared. What kind of name was Zormna? It was too weird.

But with a shrug, Jennifer went along with it. “Well, Zormna, follow me. I could use some good karma.”

She led straight to the fence.

Zormna followed.

Hayes and Darling Streets. Hayes and Darling…. Jennifer mused over them.

She knew Hayes Street. It ran north-south all the way through Pennington. But she had never heard of Darling Street. Maybe it was a small cul-de-sac near Harvest Town. Or perhaps it was a street that actually extended into Billsburg. Or worse, it was part of Monroe, the town of their hated rival high school. No Penningtonite entered Monroe without backup and she was a little wary of getting near it now.

Jennifer finally decided that she needed a map. Which meant, of course, that she had to go home. Her dad kept several maps in his office. The office was just off the living room, usually unlocked. All she had to do was sneak in, find it, and sneak out. The problem was (Jennifer thought this as she glanced back at Zormna) her dad was possessive of his stuff and super paranoid. Sometimes she wondered if he ever put in a security camera.

Jennifer glanced quickly back at Zormna again. Or, rather, where she had been. Even though she clearly had said, “Follow me,” Zormna was not right behind. Had she lost her? Or did the girl just ditch her? Jennifer swore under her breath, looking around. It felt like a prank. But she looked further back for her all the same.

She saw the Dickerson boys ride past on their bikes. They had been going up and down Maple Road all morning. They were now calling to Kenny Thompson to hurry up, as they were going to Pennington Park to play baseball. Lawnmowers had started up by then in a chorus of distant-and-near roaring, assaulting them with smells of fresh cut grass. Finally, Jennifer located the girl a block away, back near Mrs. Gibbon’s rose hedge.

Jennifer swore under her breath.

The click-click of sprinklers showered over the woman’s lawn, forming a mist on the air where that Zormna was standing. The blonde’s eyes were closed. As the fine mist settled on her face, Zormna inhaled a deep breath over the flowers. Dimples dug into her already perfect cheeks as a mesmerizing smile formed in her soft lips.

It was sickeningly unfair for a girl to be that beautiful.

“Hey, Zormna.” Jennifer struggled not to sound snide.

Zormna looked up, hastily tucking her hands behind her back. Her cheeks flushed in unfair innocence. She had been lingering over a rose, not quite touching it yet desperately wanting to.

“Do you want my help or not?” Jennifer set her hands on her hips.

“Of course, I do.” Zormna’s cheeks grew a little redder, and she immediately marched to Jennifer’s side, though she averted her eyes.

Jennifer snorted then she led the way back down the road again. It took a while to muster a less bitter tone in her voice, though it was hard, as she said, “I see you take that ‘stop and smell the roses’ saying literally.”

Halting, Zormna blinked dumbly at her—like the blonde she was. And she said most naïvely, “Do you mind if I—” And yet halfway, she recognized the sarcasm in Jennifer’s voice. She averted her gaze again, biting her tongue.

Rolling her eyes, Jennifer huffed. “Please keep up. You can smell the roses later.”

They continued on as before.

Zormna’s footsteps were like marching. They went on for another block in a decent silence when Jennifer heard Zormna involuntarily gasp.

“What is that machine?” And her voice came from farther behind once more.

“Have you never seen a mower before?” Mr. Harker replied, chuckling.

Groaning, Jennifer turned around again.

Zormna was in that man’s yard this time, gingerly stepping onto his grass. Mr. Harker leaned on the mower push bar, the engine rumbling between them as the old letch grinned. For pity’s sake—the blonde was half his age. His eyes especially caressed the curve of Zormna’s chest, a lewd remark probably forming on his lips. 

Naïve foreigner. Didn’t she know not to talk to strange old men?

Then again, Jennifer realized when she saw the intense interest on the blonde’s face, watching Zormna shake her head at the man while peering at the rumbling lawn mower as though it were the most fascinating machine alive, the girl probably hadn’t even noticed.

Mr. Harker laughed. “Where’re you from?”

Zormna cringed, glancing at the sky again like she just wanted to fly out of there. “Uh…”

“What? Don’t you have grass in Ireland?” Jennifer walked back, going just to the edge of the yard. She would not have anything to do with that old man if she could help it.

Zormna averted her eyes, blushing deeper. Her ears went pink. It was annoyingly cute.

“Ireland?” Mr. Harker blinked at Jennifer then Zormna. “Is she a cousin of yours, Ginger?”

Jennifer shook her head with one of her billion dirty looks for that old letch. “No.”

“Ah, we were going, right?” Zormna promptly trotted off the lawn.

Nodding, finally glad the girl got it, Jennifer waved for them to hurry on. Zormna jogged faster.

“Come back any time to visit!” Mr. Harker waved, leering after them.

“Dirty old man,” Jennifer muttered.

Zormna peeked back, nodding.

They finally crossed the road to her house. They went into the carport, passing her dad’s sedan and her mom’s station wagon to the side door. Jennifer hopped up the steps without thinking. But on the top step she paused with a thought.

“Is this it?” Zormna asked. She looked around them, her expression confused. Jennifer could see her counting the number of cars, two clearly being more than one, which was what the girl must have expected for her aunt who obviously lived alone. And the house wasn’t on any corner.

“Ah…” Jennifer veered about-face to address the girl. “No. Actually this is my house. I need to slip in to get a map so we can find your aunt’s house. Hayes Street I know, but Darling is a mystery to me. Just wait a second. Ok?”

Zormna nodded then moved to follow her inside the house.

But Jennifer did not go any further. She cringed, thinking over the trouble that would come next if she brought a stranger home.

“Ah, actually, my parents are kind of paranoid,” she said, holding up her hands. “So, I think it is best you just wait in the carport. Ok?”

Zormna shrugged, tossing up her hands in exasperation.

Immediately Jennifer went inside, entering the kitchen.

The truth was, as a rule, her parents did not let any sort of strangers into the house. Ever. They vetted every single one of her friends before they were allowed into their home, including, if not especially her boyfriend Kevin. The Hendersons had passed inspection. But they wouldn’t let her brother’s friend, Jeff Streigle, into the house at all—though Todd had once snuck him in when their parents had not been home. Of course, that guy had a scar across his face and a reputation for once being in a gang, so he really didn’t count.

Crossing the linoleum in the kitchen to the family room, Jennifer spotted her parents sitting together in front of the TV. Problematic. To pull this off, she had to just get by without any suspicion. Unfortunately, her father would have a clear view from the family room couch into the gap between the living room and his study door. The front entryway stood between it with a patch of tile. She had to look calm-like. Nonchalant. Like she was getting a book from the shelf in the living room rather than sneaking into his study to use the internet without his permission… which is what she usually did when she went in there.

Jennifer passed the stairs, rounded the banister, and turned to the family room to go to the front room they generally labeled the living room. She had to get by the photo wall just under the stairs; averting her eyes from the grinning picture of her older brother Todd, herself, and her younger brother and sister, Andrew and Mindy. Four redheads, freckled, and grinning with corn-ball primness. Then she passed the family photo, all of them together. There were no others. Not one of grandparents or other relatives. But that was ok. Some people needed to leave the past behind.

Reaching the end of the pictures, she stepped into the front room. She turned to the right under the pretense that she would get a book from the far shelf. Since the living room was in the front of the house, all the furniture inside it was pristine and expensive, unlike the shabby faux suede couch her parents sat on in the family room. Their eyes were still glued to the TV screen, or so she hoped at least. But she didn’t go to the bookshelf. The moment she was out of her parents’ line of sight, she slipped next to the curio cabinet. Her eyes flickered up to the kid-made knickknacks on display as she waited there. Then, carefully, she crossed the immaculate carpet to the study door.

“And what do you think you are doing?”

Busted.

Sighing, Jennifer decided it was best to tell the truth.

Facing her parents, both of whom were watching her, she said, “I just need to get a map.”

“Why do you need a map?” her father asked, his suspicion increasing. Jennifer could see all the dark scenarios playing out in her father’s mind. He always thought the worst—another disagreeable trait of his. She would have to nip this in the bud before he began to believe she was plotting a route of escape in which to elope with Kevin to some hotel—which is what he always thinks will happen.

“I happen to be helping out someone I met this morning,” Jennifer said. And she added for her parents’ sake, “A girl.”

“Oh…” They both nodded. But already the other worst-case scenario replaced the one about her and Kevin—that she had gone transgender and was now going to elope with a girl. Jennifer had to kill that one too.

“I’m just doing a neighbor a good turn. I’m helping her find an address of a relative in town,” she said. “This will only take a minute, and she’ll be on her way.”

Her father rose. “How about I find the map and direct her?”

Jennifer moaned, hanging her shoulders. “Dad. Really? Don’t you trust me at all?”

He chuckled and ever-so-slightly shook his head. “Maybe I don’t trust her.”

Jennifer groaned again.

“You know how dangerous the world is today,” he said. “Kidnappings. Random killings. Candy from strangers.”

Snorting, Jennifer said, “If it is any consolation, the girl is a high-schooler, about my age. Maybe a little younger. She just needs to find a house on the corner of Hayes and Darling Streets.”

Her father stiffened. He looked quickly back to her mother. “Darling Street, did you say?”

Jennifer nodded.

His eyes widened a little. He looked back to her mother again. She rose from her seat, looking to the kitchen door then back at Jennifer.

“Where is she?”

Shrugging, Jennifer said, “If she stayed put and waited like I told her, she’d be in the carport right now.”

“What do you mean if she stayed put?” her mother asked, going into the kitchen, probably heading to the side door.

Jennifer hung her shoulders. “I don’t know. She’s kind of spacey. You know, distracted. Like she’d never been anywhere else before but Ireland.”

“Ireland?” Both parents echoed in alarm.

Slapping her hands over her mouth, Jennifer cringed. Oops. She hadn’t intended to tell them anything about that. Her parents were über paranoid, actually, about all things Irish. They left behind their country and cultural identity when they came to America, embracing all things Americana when they arrived—including the stupid art style with chickens, cows, and barns. Jennifer had always thought this weirdness had something to do with the IRA. But they had never said a word about why exactly.

Both parents rushed to the kitchen door.

“Wait! Please!” Jennifer jogged after them, hoping they would not pounce on Zormna when they saw her. Freakishly beautiful or not, no one deserved to be beaten up for being who they were.

They yanked open the screen door then the solid one and staggered out into the carport. Jennifer stumbled out after them.

But, of course, the carport was empty. Zormna was nowhere to be seen.

Jennifer rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “This is so stupid.”

Her parents sighed together. So anticlimactic.

And they turned to go back inside.

Something rustled on the far side of both cars, right next to the tall hedge that formed a wall between their yard and the Deluca’s place. Then Zormna popped up her head, dusting off her hands with a private flush of embarrassment. Again, she had this almost toddler-like innocent look about her.

 Jennifer went down the carport steps, hurrying to her. “What are you doing?”

Zormna shrugged apologetically, quickly stepping between the cars to meet Jennifer. “Sorry. I got bored. Did you find the map?”

Looking to what Zormna had been doing, Jennifer noticed a trail of ants on the concrete picking apart a dropped doughnut chunk. Jennifer rolled her eyes back to her father, prepared to explain. But she did not get that far. Her father stared, wide eyes, mouth open. She imagined him drooling next. Jennifer looked to her mother, wondering if she’d get jealous over her husband ogling the perfect blonde. But her mother had on the same identical stare.

Zormna blushed, averting her eyes to the concrete.

“Uh, well…” Jennifer cringed, wondering if that was how she had stared at this girl the first time she saw her. “I sorta—”

“You need a map to the house on the corner of Hayes and Darling Streets?” Her father quickly trotted down the steps to the blonde, still staring at her like a man who had seen something so stunning it was almost terrifying. Her mother came right behind him.

Zormna nodded, her arms retracting close to her body.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Shrugging with just a peek at Jennifer, the girl said, “Zormna Clendar. You are Jennifer’s parents, I presume?”

Mr. McLenna nodded then looked uncertainly back to his wife. As her mother also nodded, Jennifer could see the cogs working in her mother’s brain. What about, Jennifer was not sure. Only, something in Zormna had set them in motion, and it was not going to end as she or Zormna had planned. Jennifer could see the control-freakiness in their looks.

“Ok…” Jennifer raised her voice. “About that map….”

“I think she needs to come inside,” her father said.

“I agree,” her mother chimed in. Then she turned to her daughter. “Jennifer, can you please get our guest something to drink?”

Rolling her eyes, Jennifer hung her shoulders. It was too late. They had taken over.

Zormna exhaled sharply. “Look. I just need directions. And I am not particularly thirsty at the moment.”

“I know,” her father said. “I know. But in order for us to help you, you need to come in. There is something you need to know about where you are going.”

The blonde blinked with that doe-eyed, lost in headlights look again. “Why?”

Jennifer’s mother asked, “When was the last time you were in contact with the resident of that… uh… particular house?”

“My great aunt?” Zormna remained puzzled.

They nodded, exhanging looks again conspiratorial-like.

“I was a child,” Zormna said. “I hardly knew her at all, really.”

Jennifer looked back at her. How old was this girl anyway? She was short, but mature. Maybe sixteen?

Zormna waited almost robotically for the McLenna’s to respond. After all, they had asked about the connection. They must have had a reason for it.

Finally, after some obvious mental agony, Mr. McLenna said, “So you don’t know what has happened recently with her?”

Zormna shook her head. “No. Should I?”

Nodding, Jennifer’s father and mother gestured for Zormna to go inside the house.

“You need to come in and sit down,” he said. “The news might be a little, uh, disturbing.”

So, staring shock-stiff ahead, Zormna nodded and trudged up the steps, one foot in front of the other. Jennifer opened the kitchen door for them both, going inside.

Jennifer’s parents led Zormna into the family room. The TV was still on. Some kind of PBS program about the pyramids in Egypt possibly being linked to the Nazca lines in Peru was on. The rich narratorial voice extrapolated on the theory that both were created by bulbous-headed aliens with enormous eyes, casting some doubt on the possibility. It had typically overdramatic background music.

Her mother hastily picked up the remote and turned it off, almost blushing. Yet Zormna hardly seemed to be aware of the room she was going into, still staring into space with worry that something had gone horribly wrong and she was about to get bad news.

“Please sit,” her father said.

Zormna glanced around again, almost like waking. She sat on the cushy faux suede couch. Her pale fingers stroked the surface, taking in the sensation—like with the rose, and the grassy lawn, and the lawn mower, and those ants on the concrete. Jennifer got the distinct impression that this girl didn’t get out much.

“Ok,” Mr. McLenna said, “Your aunt—”

“Great aunt,” Zormna corrected, her fingernails gently making tracks in the nap of the fabric.

The man nodded. “Great aunt. She’s a large elderly woman by the name of Asiah, right?”

Lifting her head with hope, Zormna nodded. “Yes. That’s her name.”

Asiah? Really? Jennifer shook her head.

Sighing, Mr. McLenna said, “Asiah Clendar lives on the corner of Hayes and Kennedy Streets. It got changed from Darling Street in the late Seventies. The address you have is outdated.”

Nodding, Zormna urged him to go on. A change in address was no big deal after all. They would just go there. She glanced to Jennifer with that inclination.

Mentally agreeing, Jennifer shrugged.

“The thing is… uh,” her father said. Glancing to his wife, “Asiah Clendar is… uh… dead.”

Zormna’s eyes widened. She set a hand over her mouth, which was just so Hollywood perfect. Only Zormna didn’t seem to be acting. She looked like she was about to be sick. “Oh no….”

“She died about two years ago,” he continued explaining. “There was a big stink about it, actually. All over the newspapers. And worse, people suspect it was murder.”

Zormna rose sharply. “What?”

Her parents shared yet another look.

“That’s right,” Mr. McLenna said. “So, you see, no one will be there even if you go—”

“Who murdered her?” Zormna’s lips had gone pale. They had been a bare pink before. Now they were more like chalk.

Shaking their heads, both of Jennifer’s parents replied, “We don’t know. But the FBI was all over the case—that’s the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Do you understand?”

Slowly, Zormna nodded. Yet she stared at the space in front of her, white and weak. Oddly frail.

Frowning, Jennifer tried to think of the case of murder they were describing. Two years ago? And in Pennington? Only one stuck out to her, but it couldn’t be that one…could it? She had to ask. “You don’t mean that crazy woman, Ms. Calendar, do you?”

Her parents cringed together. Jennifer knew that look. It was a bad look.

“What do you mean crazy?” Zormna’s her green eyes were like magic fire, slits in an offended scowl.

Raising her hands and stepping back, Jennifer shrugged in her defense. “I know of only one murder in our neighborhood in the past couple years—and that was that fat crazy woman who thought she was from the planet Mars.”

Her words affected Zormna like a slap. The girl’s rich emerald eyes widened again, astonished. She blinked a few times to bat what Jennifer had just said out of them. She was breathless when she said, “Thought she was from Mars?”

“She wouldn’t shut up about it,” Jennifer added, glad to see this girl had some sense.

Blinking more, Zormna’s anger entirely fizzled. She shook her head, clearly banishing a notion she thought was entirely ridiculous. She dropped back to the couch.

“Well, that’s her,” Jennifer’s dad said with a peek to Zormna.

Their visitor, Zormna heaved an exasperated sigh. She set her head in her hands, grieving. “So. She is dead.”

Both parents nodded sympathetically.

“What am I going to do now?” Zormna muttered, her voice cracking.

The parents exchanged a look. Jennifer did not quite understand what it meant. Jennifer’s mother ventured to ask, “Is there someone you can contact?”

But Zormna moaned with grief.

“Did you have a plan B?” Jennifer’s mother inched in closer, waiting for something useful.

Through a heavy sigh, if not a sniffle, Zormna shook her head. “No.”

Silence followed. The grandfather clock ticked in the other room, then chimed. Zormna lurched, startled by the sound.

Jennifer’s mother asked cautiously, “Do you need a place to stay until you can contact your, uh, sponsors?”

Gritting her teeth, Zormna winced as if this was the worst of all pains. Heavily, she lifted her head to meet Mrs. McLenna’s gaze. “Actually, I am more or less here illegally.”

Jennifer almost chuckled, those words tickling her funny bone—an illegal alien who had an aunt who believed herself to be a Martian? It took everything in Jennifer not to crack a joke. She knew this was a serious matter. She knew this girl had to be in a foul mood, the type mixed between grief and anger, if not fear. Plans gone awry and family dead.

Yet Jennifer noticed both of her parents were less sympathetic than before. They actually exchanged long wan looks over Zormna’s disappointing reply.

“You didn’t go through the proper channels?” Her dad’s voice had gone terse, the same way it got when she did something stupid and should have known better.

Zormna shrugged with another blank, stressed-out stare. “It was quite last minute. I was supposed to stay with my great aunt until other arrangements could be made. But now that this has fallen through….”

Hearing her, Jennifer’s father nodded, a little less accusatory. “I see. That’s how it is.”

But Jennifer did not see at all. The only thing she did see was the conspiratorial looks between her parents. They watched Zormna for a moment as the girl just stared at the carpet in despair, then whispered together.

After another spate of whispers, they nodded in tandem and said, “You will stay here.”

Blinking, stunned, Jennifer murmured aloud without meaning to, “Where will she stay?”

They shot her a look. Not in any words, she could read that they thought she was being unsympathetic.

However, Jennifer could not account for it. In all her memory, no one had actually been allowed to stay over at their house EVER. Not even best friends whom her parents had though very highly of. Jennifer gasped out, “I’m sorry. Where is she staying? On the hide-a-way bed in the family room? Because my room is already way too cramped with Mindy in there.”

Her parents cast her withering looks. Their looks reminded Jennifer quickly, yet silently, that it was not her room, but the bedroom belonged equally to Mindy. Jennifer begged to differ. Besides, this was unprecedented. Who was this chick? Had Zormna just been vetted? Not in any way that she could see. But clearly the perfect blonde had passed all their criteria with glowing colors.

“No,” her mother replied. “The attic is big enough to convert into a temporary room.”

Jennifer snorted. She turned towards Zormna with an elbow nudge, trying to be friendly, “Hey, you wanna sleep in a dusty attic for a couple nights?”

But Zormna hardly responded. In fact, she still looked like someone had slapped her with a truck. Her arms hung down, crossed between her legs as if her wrists had been shackled to the carpet. And though she wasn’t out-and-out bawling, she clearly wasn’t coping.

“Hey,” Jennifer leaned in nearer. “It’s going to be ok. You can stay here. We have room.”

Zormna expression grew pained. She turned toward Jennifer. “I just….”

“We know,” Jennifer’s dad said, “It wasn’t what you had planned.”

Looking to him, Zormna nodded.

“So,” her father rose. “You said you came here using, uh, alternative routes. Did you bring any documentation with you?”

Shaking her head, Zormna closed her eyes and sighed. “No. My great aunt was supposed to provide it. She had it all ready, I was told.”

Both parents pulled back. They shared yet another conspiring look, though this time with a degree of panic which Jennifer was not familiar with.

“Of course,” Zormna murmured mournfully, “with her death, all her property would have been liquidated. So that’s gone.”

Jennifer frowned, folding her arms across her chest. Was that what had happened? She couldn’t remember. The whole thing with the crazy lady’s death had been a circus. Then everyone happily forgot the old kook ever existed.

Her father lifted a finger. “Uh, actually, the house is untouched.”

“What?” Zormna lifted her eyes to him.

A little sheepish, Jennifer’s father exchanged yet another look with his wife. “It is a funny thing. You see, um, after the investigation closed and the funeral was over, all of us expected an estate sale. And, well…”

Jennifer chuckled. Now it came to her. It had definitely been a circus, which included a large crowd of rubberneckers to see the show. Most of the street had gotten blocked off.

“Everyone wanted to see what was in her house,” Jennifer’s mom explained with a blush.

Rolling her eyes, Jennifer said, “Of course, we did. Everyone wanted to see what the crazy lady had inside that place.”

Jennifer caught a scathing look from that Zormna, still irritated that she repeatedly called her aunt crazy.

“She had amazing crystal-ware,” Jennifer’s mother murmured covetously to herself.

“Lots of fancy Victorian furniture,” Jennifer chimed in, less embarrassed about wanting to explore that house. Everyone had peeked into the windows at one time or another.

“Antiques of unknown value.” Her mom sighed.

“And that huge carved panorama thing hanging over the stairs that I always wanted to see up close,” Jennifer said. “It’s, like, cherry wood or something. With horses and desert, or something.”

“And a player piano,” Jennifer’s mother concluded as if she had intended to buy it back then.

Yet hearing them, Zormna’s expression had glazed over. She hunched towards the carpet as though her invisible manacles were getting heavier.

“The thing is,” Jennifer’s mom continued, noticing the blonde’s reaction to their covet session, “The executor of the estate (some lawyer) said none of it was to be sold—including the house—for the next five years. It was all in her will, see. It is possible she was still waiting for family to join her. I had heard her mention she had family abroad that might be coming to live with her.”

“Did she really?” Jennifer turned to her mother. Her mother had, on rare occasions, spoken with the crazy lady. Polite-like. It had always freaked Jennifer out because that woman was so weird. She didn’t like her mother hanging around weird people.

Jennifer’s mother nodded. And so did her father.

But Zormna only frowned deeper.

“Anyway, after the five years,” Mrs. McLenna continued, “he will be allowed to sell the property and liquidate her assets. Until then, it remains untouched.”

“A haunted house. Oooooh!” Jennifer made an eerie noise, wiggling her fingers at Zormna who was not amused.

The girl rolled her eyes and turned her back on Jennifer. She turned toward Mr. McLenna who wasn’t getting wrapped up in all the hype about all the things tucked away in her great aunt’s house. “So, are you saying my documents might still be in that house?”

Thinking, he shrugged. “Possibly. You might want to look into retrieving them.”

Zormna shook her head, rising to her small height. Everyone stood with her. “I truly doubt that the documents are still there.” Zormna set a hand to her forehead. “Not if this Federal Bureau of Investigation had been at her home, as you said. Governments would not leave legal documents like that alone. Not if they were truly investigating a murder.”

And that killed the discussion. The parents exchanged looks. The way Zormna spoke was so blunt and authoritative, as if she had full confidence in what she was saying. It was disturbing, really.

“Unless, of course, she hid the documents,” Zormna murmured to herself, opening up the conversation for speculation—if only for herself.

Both parents shared yet another look before Jennifer’s father finally said, “Well, then it is still worthwhile to check out. But just in case, I’d better make a few contacts to see if we can get some temporary documents made.”

“You can do that?” Jennifer stared at her parents. It sounded illegal. She had always thought her parents were a normal average suburban couple. Boring. And by all accounts, they were. Both dressed business classic. Never wore leather, or leopard print. And they avoided most pop culture, including internet fads and fashion trends. But now her parents seemed significantly cooler.

Her father merely shrugged.

“Well then,” Jennifer’s mom said, smoothing her shirt front and pants with a look about the room. “I guess we then ought to get to work.” She waved with her arm to both of the girls. “Jennifer, Zormna, follow me. We’ll go upstairs and get you into more suitable clothes. Jennifer, you can lend her some.”

Her mother promptly led the way.

Just like that.

If Jennifer had not known her parents all her life, she would have thought of this move was logical and compassionate. But these were her folks. And paranoia like theirs did not die such a quick death. Something had changed, and she did not know what.

“What exactly is wrong with my clothing?” Zormna asked Jennifer’s mother as she ascended the stairs after Mrs. McLenna. Her face was a mask of confusion.

Jennifer followed, finding all of this way too weird—though the idea of getting this girl in normal clothes did make sense.

“Nothing, physically,” Mrs. McLenna answered, her voice echoing up above. She strode to the end of the hall, stopping at the small linen closet-sized door at the end. It had been a closet once, but they had turned it into a doorway to the unfinished attic ages ago. “Except it looks like you are wearing pajamas.”

“Pajamas?” Zormna glanced down at her peach outfit, frowning.

Mrs. McLenna nodded. Her eyes flickered from Zormna to her daughter. Jennifer stared back plaintively. After all, she had already realized that Zormna’s petite yet curvaceous frame was not going to fit her clothes the same.

“Find drawstring pants,” reading her expression, her mother instructed. “I think you have a pair of cargo pants that zip off into shorts. And any tee shirt will do.”

Hanging her shoulders, Jennifer continued up to the second floor. She veered around to her bedroom door with a nod, opening it.

Zormna followed her in. Or tried to. Jennifer stopped her immediately when her eyes took in all the embarrassing mess.

“Uh…” Jennifer hastily shoved the rather startled girl back into the hallway. “It’s not clean yet. Wait here, and I’ll get you some clothes.”

She shut door shut in front of Zormna’s astonished face before the girl could say anything. What would someone so naturally perfect think if she saw this disaster area? Taking in the scattered pairs of pants, shirts, and panties on her floor, not to mention all of Mindy’s things, Jennifer flushed red. But then Jennifer chuckled to herself, leaning on the closed door. Why was she assuming anything about a total stranger? The girl had nothing but a monochromatic outfit and a matching duffle bag to her name. This was so dumb.

Yet… a good first impression mattered.

Jennifer rushed about, picking up shirts, pants, underwear, bras, and socks. All of them, she crammed into an open drawer then shoved it closed. She tossed all of Mindy’s things onto her bed. Then she looked around with time to think. Cargo pants. Jennifer was sure they were dirty. She had worn them Thursday. So that was a no go. Clothes… clothes for that tiny blonde with a bigger chest than she had. How was that going to work?

Sneaking to the door again, Jennifer carefully opened it and peeked out. Zormna was still there—not staring at the door thankfully. But she was gazing up at the hall light, flipping on and off the switch. An amused-as-a-three-year-old-with-a-new-toy smirk crooked up half of the blonde’s mouth, but only just. Then Zormna turned towards the other doors, mostly the open ones, peering in. She found the bathroom first.

Clothes! Jennifer whipped back to finish her task. Capris or shorts would have to do. An ordinary tee shirt would be enough, but there was no way she was lending that girl a bra. Jennifer then thought about shoes. She hopped back to the door, peering at the ones on Zormna’s feet. White, with strange clasps. Oh. And they weren’t shoes at all, but boots. Weird material. And definitely smaller than her feet. Zormna would probably fit Andrew’s shoes—maybe. They’ll have to ask him to loan a pair when he got home from scouts, if he wasn’t being too much of a brat. Then again, who would look at Zormna’s feet anyway? All eyes drew upward with her.

Jennifer almost closed the door but stopped when she saw Zormna peek into the boys’ room. It was clearly marked with a homemade Girls Keep Out!!!! sign in black and red magic marker. A huge Dead End street sign hung over it. Anyone with sense would have left it alone. Jennifer braced herself for the inevitable bellow from beyond the door. After all, Todd was home.

“You come in, and you’re dead! Got it, Mindy?”

Zormna sprang back, her eyes wide. She blinked, then inched away, hurrying to the small attic door where Jennifer’s mother had gone.

That was worth the chuckle, Jennifer thought as she went back to her clothing search. Digging into the bureau, she unearthed a pair of capris. She found a tan one with a drawstring in the waist, perfect for that petite blonde. Then she scrounged through the drawer she had just filled, sniffing the tee shirts for one that was not dirty. She grabbed a dark blue baby tee that worked. It was still folded, anyway.

With these in hand, Jennifer jogged to the ‘attic’. There, her mother was already extracting out from the heaps of stored stuff an old brass bed that was already partially assembled. The mattress leaned against the wall. Most the buttons on it had been pulled out with stuffing.

Walking up the steps, Jennifer peered into the room, which really wasn’t much of a room at all. It was about the size of a walk-in closet with a slanted roof and a tiny window, which was why they stored most of their old junk in it. The reason the attic had steps was that the floor was raised. Underneath in the flooring contained ventilation for the heat and air conditioner. Currently it was humming.

 Zormna stood at the small circular window, wiping dust and grease off with her fingertips. Jennifer expected a critical superior sort of look on Zormna’s face, but that wasn’t what she saw. Zormna’s eyes stared like someone trapped. This definitely wasn’t what Jennifer had in mind when she offered to help that morning. But it was too late now. The parents had taken over. They were both in for it.

“Here they are,” Jennifer said, holding out the clothes.

Looking up, Zormna set her dark green eyes on the shirt and capris Jennifer extended to her. She sighed, resigned-like.

“You can change in the bathroom,” Jennifer’s mother said. “It’s the first door this side of the stairs.”

Zormna nodded. With one militaristic turn, she marched out of the room. Jennifer watched her go, half-tempted to salute.

Turning back towards her mother, Jennifer crept close to whisper, “Why her?”

“Hmm?” her mother responded, shoving the bed to the wall just under the window.

Sighing, Jennifer walked over. She helped her mother scoot the bed into place, then heave the mattress on top. Once in position, she asked again, “Why her, Mom? You never let anyone stay over. Not even my once-friend Jessica.”

Her mother raised her eyebrows. “I thought you said Jessica was a back-stabbing tatted jerkoff who’d rather screw around with the metal-heads than go to the junior high campout with you?”

Jennifer choked on a laugh from that almost exact quote. “Well, yeah. Now. But before she became a back-stabbing jerkoff she was my best friend.”

Her mother rose and rolled her eyes. She gestured to the things heaped along the right corner. “Help me cover these.”

Following her, Jennifer grabbed one end of the dusty curtains her mother had picked up and assisted her in draping it over the junk.

Finally, her mother said, “This girl is different. I understand the background she comes from. She is not out for trouble.”

“How do you know?” Jennifer asked. “That’s what you are always asking Todd and me when we want to bring people over.”

Sighing, her mother heaved up her side of the drapes. She shook her head, thinking up a viable answer. “Did you see the way she coped with the news of her aunt’s death.”

Jennifer looked to the ceiling. “Isn’t coping. She’s in shock.”

“Exactly.” Her mother nodded. “She needs us.”

It was true, but the selfish logic in Jennifer’s head still argued that it wasn’t fair. Blondes got all the luck. Especially the ones that were knockout gorgeous.  

“She is alone in the world,” her mother continued. “And it would be unkind to send her back into the world without help. And it is about time we showed some human compassion.”

A bit of shame washed over Jennifer. “It wasn’t like I was arguing against it.”

“I know.” Her mother smiled, patting Jennifer on the shoulder. “Go get some clean sheets and a blanket from the linen cabinet. We’ll need to buy some new pillows this afternoon.”

“Or steal some from the crazy lady’s house,” Jennifer muttered, climbing back down the step. 

“You know,” her mother called after her, laughing to herself as that thought tickled her, “That might not be a bad idea. After Zormna’s changed, you should take her there.”

Nodding, Jennifer continued to trot back into the hallway. The linen cabinet was right next to the bathroom, stocked on the high shelves with all sorts of sheets. She collected one of the twin sets, which her mother combined together by tucking the sheets into the matching pillowcase. Then she turned back toward the attic. She didn’t get far before she heard the toilet flush, then flush again. Shaking her head, Jennifer walked up the steps and handed over the sheets. She’d have to go back for the blanket.

The toilet flushed once more when she stepped out the door.

Todd marched out from his room, fists clenched. Jennifer’s older brother went straight to the bathroom and pounded on the door. His freckled face almost matched his red hair in fury. “Andrew! Cut that out. You’re wasting water!”

Todd then twisted the doorknob, shoving the door in with a bang against the sink. Apparently Zormna hadn’t locked it.

 “Skavee!” Zormna’s voice echoed from inside the room with a yip.

Rushing to the bathroom the same moment Todd stormed inside, Jennifer stared at the scene.

Tom immediately jumped back out, his eyes wide, blinking at the small blonde as she stepped damply from the room. Zormna’s eye caught on Jennifer’s. Her cheeks immediately flushed.

“Who are you?” Todd asked, turning an even darker shade of red, though from surprise—among other things. “And, uh, what were you doing in there?

Pinker, Zormna averted her eyes, which made her look demure. “I…”

“You know, you only need to flush the toilet once.” His eyes raked her in, his feet shifting his feet in that awkward way boys got when near girls they automatically assumed were out of their league.

Going back to her task, Jennifer chuckled, extracting a quilt from the top shelf of the linen cabinet.

“I am sorry.” Zormna ducked her head even more sheepishly, just as she had back with Mr. Harker and the lawnmower. “Things work a little differently back Home.”

Todd’s expression brightened upon hearing her accent. “Hey. Are you Irish?”

The girl practically moaned when she said, “Yes.”

Watching her embarrassment, he chuckled. “It’s not a bad thing to be, if you are.”

This time Zormna smirked, cocking her head to the side. She looked at him less warily.

“I’m Todd,” he said with a glance at Jennifer out of the corner of his eye, mentally making guesses over who she was and why she was there. “And you are…?”

“Zormna Clendar.” The girl weakly chuckled, even more demure as she exuded aphrodisiacal beauty.

It was sickening. Envy welled up in Jennifer, much to her chagrin. How could she possibly live in a house with a person like this? No way could she ever match up.

But Zormna caught her eye, reading her looks well enough. She cringed.

“So…” Todd peeked to Jennifer for confirmation. “Are you a friend, visiting?”

Also sneaking a look to Jennifer, Zormna came up short for words. She seemed to pull into herself.

“She’s staying with us, Todd,” Jennifer told him, shutting the linen closet door, hefting the blanket higher in her arms to show Zormna would be sleeping there.

“Staying? You mean living with us?” Todd had this ‘too-good-to-be-true” expression on his face as he took both girls in with his eyes.

Jennifer wearily rolled her eyes, even more sure she was not going to like this. “Yes.” And she walked off toward the attic to deliver the blanket to her mother.

“For a short while,” Zormna clarified, her startling green eyes drawing Todd back in, following Jennifer.

He blushed. And why wouldn’t he? He was an in-the-flesh male.

But when they reached the door, Jennifer’s mother quickly took the blanket from her daughter then gently shooed both girls out. “Go see if you can get those documents you need, and a pillow. Or at least find out if there is a phone number on the door for someone to call so you can get a look at the house.”

Zormna and Jennifer exchanged silent looks, knowing that was an order. Clearly, their mother wanted them out from under foot while she arranged things—control freaky to the end.

With a nod to Todd as they passed him, Zormna followed Jennifer who trotted back to the stairs and down, leading the new girl onward.

Todd watched them both, leaning way over the stair banister for one final look at Zormna’s curvature. Damn, she was hot.

He whistled low, shaking his head. Going straight to the attic, he ducked his head in to see what was going on inside. Already the attic had the semblance of a room, including a rug set on the floor in the middle of the narrow floor space. He stepped in. “Holy cow, Mom, what is going on?”

She stopped what she was doing. She had been folding down the top edge of the blanket and spreading it neatly. Turning, she gave a vague shrug. “Doing a favor.”

He lifted his eyebrows at her. His cool blue eyes inspected his mother with skepticism. “You guys don’t even like it when my friends come over. Not even Brian. So why are you letting her? Not that I’m complaining. She’s hot, but—”

“Todd.” Mrs. McLenna dropped the peach suit Zormna had handed her onto a cedar chest she had pushed to the end of the bed. Her expression had turned grave. “I don’t want you to get emotionally attached to that girl. This is just a favor, and temporary.”

“Yeah, but why?” Todd tried to read his mother’s expression, as he knew this was entirely not what she would do in any regular circumstance. Not that his mother could not be kind, but his parents were so private about their home space and so utterly suspicious, that he had always assumed they were in fact on the run from the law. He decided to address the elephant in the room now. “You never help out anybody.”

He could see his mother struggle with a suitable response. She took her time to answer him, but when she did, she said, “Maybe we’ve decided to take Pastor Davis’s challenge to be a more loving neighbor.”

He doubted that, and openly rolled his eyes with a huff as he turned to go back out. It wasn’t likely that was the real reason. But he was sure she would not tell him.

“Just think of her as a sister. Ok?” his mother called after him.

At that, he snorted. Todd hopped back down the attic steps into the hall then went back to the bathroom. When he stepped in, his foot settled into the veritable lake on the tile. Most of it was around the toilet.

He groaned, pulling his foot out and shaking it off. “Man! Another sister? That’s the last thing I need! And one of them better come back to clean this up!”

The Nut’s House

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

“Dig a well before you are thirsty”—Chinese proverb—

 

 

Jennifer led Zormna up the street from her house, feeling dutifully on-task. As she went, she attempted to engage Zormna in conversation to make sure the girl was following her this time—as Zormna seemed to be a veritable ADHD kid when it came to the outside neighborhood. By then, the resonance of mowers around the neighborhood had died down to a distant hum.

“So,” Jennifer started with a pertinent topic, walking at a moseying pace alongside the distracted blonde, “Mom says we ought to try to find a way into the house to snag a few pillows. I mean, it’s your aunt’s place, so it isn’t exactly stealing.”

Zormna didn’t respond, and Jennifer had to peek to see if she was still there. Her eyes were up, gazing at the blue sky overhead. Then they flickered to the budding green leaves on the trees and down to the houses and green lawns. A wind blew smoothly through the boughs, bringing on it the aroma of cinnamon and warm sugar. Someone had to be baking cookies, or perhaps making marshmallow Rice-crispy squares for a Saturday snack. The cinnamon wind rustled the leaves. The hush of white noise caressed past their faces, twisting up Zormna’s random curls in a way that made it look like fire. The pair of longer strands swayed unevenly under her chin. And the wind carried away Jennifer’s thoughts.

Since she got no response from Zormna, Jennifer eventually decided silence was better after all. It was a nice day. She could just drink in the sun and the sweet aromas on the air. It had been a while when she last really enjoyed a quiet walk.

But then Zormna stopped on the sidewalk, cursing under her breath.

Jennifer looked back.

Tangled around the blonde’s slender fingers, Zormna fought the drawstring to her pants—attempting to tie it again in a sensible, non-shifting knot. Her mouth twisted from its perfect bow shape into something almost comical.

“Having trouble?” Jennifer raised one eyebrow, or tried to. She had always wanted that clever look on her face. Unfortunately, her eyebrows always acted in tandem.

“Yes.” Zormna petulantly lifted her eyes from her task. “I am sorry I am delaying you. I do not usually use strings to hold up my clothes.”

It was a struggle not to laugh at her. Beauty she was, grace she was not. In fact, Zormna seemed a bit boyish rather than feminine. Coughing to clear her amusement, Jennifer said, “That seems to be happening a lot lately. Tell me. Is Ireland really that different from here?”

The blonde’s eyes flickered to Jennifer’s face with the faintest of blushes. “Actually… uh, I grew up in a military school. You could say I never truly saw the country.”

A beat.

“Military school?” That explained all the marching. Jennifer smirked, easing into that thought.

Nodding, Zormna sighed. “It was my high commander that sent me to live with my great aunt. He arranged it all.”

“Why didn’t you just go back home to your parents?” Jennifer asked, growing even more curious.

The girl flinched, averted her eyes to the ground. “They’re dead.”

“Oh.” Her energy seemed to wash out of her, her stomach plummeting. Jennifer pressed her hand over her mouth. “I’m… I’m so—”

But Zormna waved it off as if she did not want to talk about it. “They died when I was five. It was a long time ago.” She looked ahead to the street as to urge them to go on.

“So how did you end up in a military school?” Jennifer stared, not quite able to move on just yet. “Don’t you need special funding for that? They’re, like, expensive.”

“My uncle set it up, I think.” But Zormna looked nervous, unwillingly divulging this information. “When he died, his partner took me there. And I’ve been there ever since.”

These words sent another plummeting, enervating wash through her.

“Wait a minute.” Jennifer lifted her hands, overwhelmed by all this shocking information, unable to go further now. “Just a minute. Your parents died? Then your uncle died? And now here you have a dead great aunt?”

She watched Zormna cringe, nodding. “That is right. And it is making me unduly trepidatious.”

 “Unduly what?” The girl talked weird. Jennifer put her hand to her forehead. “What it is doing is freaking me out. Do I have to worry about someone coming after you?”

“I hope not,” Zormna said, then marched on.

Hope not? Shaking her head, Jennifer rushed after her. She took the lead, pointing the way. “Explain.”

For a second, Zormna opened her mouth to explain, but her eyes turned on the Henderson twins who were pulling the weeds out of their grandmother’s front flower garden. Jennifer tried to tug Zormna along, but the girl watched as Mr. Henderson called to his sons while holding out a garbage bag and urging the boys to fill it. The man smiled at the passing girls, nodding once to Jennifer whom he recognized. His eyes brightened when he saw Zormna. But unlike pervy Mr. Harker, Mr. Henderson didn’t leer, and he soon went back to work.

Jennifer pulled her away. “You didn’t explain. What do you mean by ‘I hope not’?”

Sighing wearily, Zormna said, “One of the main reasons I was sent to live here is to keep me safe from ne’er-do-wells.”

 “Ok…” Jennifer shook her head, thinking, Ne’re-do-wells? Really? Along with that thick Irish brogue, the girl had the weirdest vocabulary. “I get it…. Kinda’. So, now what?”

Shrugging, Zormna said, “I do not know. I need more information.”

Jennifer lurched with a look at her. She was just too weird. “You sound like a computer.”

Zormna halted. She blinked at Jennifer with that puzzled I’m-a-blonde-so-I-don’t-understand look. At least, that was what Jennifer took it for, at first. But then she soon realized she had grossly misunderstood Zormna’s empty stares. It was more like I’m-a-soldier, what-did-you-expect look.

With another eye-roll, Jennifer asked, “How do you intend to get the information?”

Heavily sighing, Zormna’s expression had now turned desert dry. “I will investigate. Carefully.”

Such a conversation killer. This Zormna was turning out to really be the kind of girl Jennifer definitely did not like. She was so blunt. And vague. Almost superior-minded.

They continued the walk in silence.

Mid-way, Jennifer beckoned Zormna to the narrow alley between the backyards of the houses. “Let’s go through here. It is a shortcut to Hayes Street.”

This particular alley had five trashcans standing in the opening surrounded by all sorts of household litter. These alleys were used as trash drop-offs wide enough for one small pedicab to drive through to collect garbage then take it to a larger vehicle on a main road. Jennifer went in as Zormna recoiled. Below their feet, eggshells, orange peels and candy wrappers were intermixed with the shoe-trod pebbles. Scraggly grass crept up between brick steppingstones and pounded-down sand on a campaign to retake the territory.

Narrowly, Zormna peered into the shady (and rather pungent) alleyway, lifting her eyebrows at the ground cover while Jennifer went in, gingerly stepping over the debris so she would not walk on anything slimy.

“So, what was your school like?” Jennifer asked as she led the way.

Groaning at the mess, Zormna took a large step over a trash bag then caught up with Jennifer.

“Look,” Zormna muttered, “I do not really want to talk about it. It was a school. What else can be said?”

“What else?” Jennifer snorted, imagining all sorts of things as she guided their new house guest behind her neighbors’ homes. “It is a military school in Ireland. Who funded it? Government? Private donors? Did you learn to shoot guns? Did you climb walls? Run through obstacle courses? I’m curious.”

Yet as she said that, she caught a look on Zormna’s face that said her used of the word curious was incorrect. Nosy seemed to be more to Zormna’s point of view of her. Jennifer didn’t like that.

“It was government funded.” Zormna finally huffed, the snotty-face. “I do not recall any wall-climbing we had to do. But if you want to talk about military training—yes, I learned to shoot a gun. I took classes in martial arts, mechanics, and vehicle operation. The rest is none of your concern.”

Jennifer halted this time. Turning, she blocked the way so they could go no further. “None of my concern? What? Is that the same as if you tell me you have to kill me?”

But Zormna did not back away like other girls did when Jennifer challenged them. Instead, the blonde leaned in to face her. Her dark green eyes narrowed dryly. “Are your military schools like that?”

“No.” Jennifer got the impression the girl was talking to her like an adult did to an insufferable child. “But you make everything sound so—I don’t know—mysterious.”

“So?” Zormna just stared.

“So… who can possibly stand that?”

“What do you mean, stand it?”

“I don’t like secrets,” Jennifer snapped. “Spill. I need details.”

“For what?” Zormna asked in protest, definitely seeing her as insufferable.

Shrugging with an up-toss of her hands, Jennifer continued back on their way to the house. “To figure you out. I don’t know what to think about you right now.”

Zormna did not reply. Her green eyes focused on Jennifer for a full minute before she shook her head and trudged after Jennifer, remaining in silence. After a minute, she kicked the junk at her feet grumbling incoherently under her breath. One thing Jennifer did understand. Zormna muttered, “…stupid place.”

Jennifer lurched to a stop. “If it is so stupid then why don’t you just go back?”

Jerking her head up, Zormna narrowed her eyes. “If I had the means, I would. But I am stuck, as it were.”

“You know, I don’t have to help you!” Jennifer snapped back. “And by the way, Pennington is a great place.”

Inwardly groaning, Zormna closed her eyes. Her hands balled into fists, her neck going rigid. She heaved in deep, possibly temper-controlling breaths, remaining silent.

“In fact, America is awesome,” Jennifer added, waiting for some Irish protestation to the contrary.

Zormna drew in deep breaths. She let them out. After several in silence, Zormna opened her dark green eyes, fixing them on Jennifer. She didn’t say anything for a long while. Finally, she replied, “Look—I am sure this place is… awesome for you. But this is not my home. And I have no more family.”

All the blood rushed out of Jennifer’s face. Once more that list of dead people came to mind. Parents gone. Uncle gone. Great aunt gone. No more family… at all? Taking in Zormna’s bloodshot eyes, which had made the green look stronger, Jennifer realized this girl was barely holding it together.

“Hey. Hey.” Jennifer hopped forward and put an arm around the blonde, attempting in some way to comfort her. “You’re going to be ok.”

But Zormna only shook her head, her body stiffening under her touch. She sniffled. A tear dribbled down her face. Zormna quickly wiped it off, averting her eyes as her face flushed.

“Hey, we’re going to help you out,” Jennifer said, feeling guilty now. “We promised, didn’t we?”

Nodding sheepishly, Zormna rubbed more tears away with the back of her hand. Jennifer almost though she was acting, but the girl kept averting her face as if she did not want to be seen like this.

“Alright.” Jennifer still felt stupid, not sure if she was really being such a heel or was getting played by an excellent actress. “No more talking about your school and stuff. I get it. I’ll tell you about mine instead.”

Leaning from her, complete confusion emerged on Zormna’s face. “Ok?”

“I mean, you’ll be joining me once you get settled in,” Jennifer explained.

Zormna’s eyes widened. Then she laughed. “No, I am not.”

“Of course, you are.” Jennifer retorted. “Mom’s not going to let you stay at home and do nothing.”

Tossing those fiery blonde curls back from her face, Zormna said in the frankest tone possible while banishing another tear, “Look, Jennifer. I have already graduated school. I am done.”

“Graduated?” Jennifer eyed her. “How old are you?”

Shrugging, Zormna gestured for them to go onward.

“No, really.” Jennifer refused to go further until she got a response.

Zormna chuckled. “Fourteen. Now can we go?”

With a giving up nod, Jennifer continued on. Yet peeking at the girl, she certainly didn’t look just fourteen, though it explained her height.

They reached the end of the alley and stepped out onto Kennedy Street. Across from the alley was a two-story cream-colored house with large picture windows. Just to the right of it, towering on the corner like a queen on a tuffet, sat the large powder blue Victorian style house where the crazy lady had once lived. The paint was peeling off, shedding bleached-blue curls all over the shaggy-as-a-hayfield lawn. Dandelions ran wild all over the sloping grass, making it one of the most dilapidated-looking places Jennifer ever knew.

“Is that it?” Zormna followed her gaze, peered up at the third level turret, then down the two floors to the veranda at the front.

Nodding, Jennifer crossed the street.

She led Zormna over the hillocky lawn up to the front steps. The moment Jennifer reached the first step, she halted. Wide as castle gates, the doorway gaped open in front of her.

“Look at that, it is open.” Zormna hopped up to the doorway, passing Jennifer. She peeked her head in. “That makes it easier.”

Hurrying quickly after her, Jennifer hissed, “Yeah. But what is it doing open? The psycho who killed your aunt could be there looking for you!”

White-faced, Zormna halted. “Possible….”

Jennifer retreated to the side of the door, peering around to the street. She spotted two cars parked at the curb. Sedans. Sleek, clean, and dark. No insignias on them or anything, so not police cars at least. Nor anything like a service van.

Voices also came from inside the house.

“…But not likely,” Zormna murmured after a moment’s thought. “I do not think a killer would park so publicly, or leave a door wide open. Let us go inside and ask them their business.”

Turning a wan look on her, Jennifer stared a full minute. Walking into a house that did not belong to them, and they would ask those others their business?

Then a thought occurred to Jennifer, she hurried after Zormna. “What if they are the FBI?”

Sighing, Zormna gave that a momentary thought then said, “If they are government men, then they are incredibly unprofessional. Why would they leave the front door open?”

 Good point, Jennifer thought. Though, the FBI in this case had no reason to sneak around.

“I think,” and Zormna stepped back to the open doorway again, “that those inside are people who feel they have a right to be in there.”

“The FBI would think that,” Jennifer hissed after her.

But Zormna shook her head. “I think not. I do believe that agents would have to be discreet. If I were investigating a murder, then I would not want the perpetrators to believe I was on their trail. That means going quietly.” She stepped inside the house. “Besides, there is something in here I need to find.”

Jennifer hurried in after her. “This is a big mistake!” She kept her voice just above a whisper, but she felt like shouting. “We can just go buy new pillows. It is no big deal.”

But Zormna had already marched into the kitchen. It was just to the right of the front door.

Jennifer lingered in the entryway. It had been over two years since she had last set foot that place. Currently, layers of dust covered everything within the spacious living room. When she had been there last, there weren’t sheets covering all the furniture or cobwebs tangled around the high orb chandelier that hung from the vaulted ceiling. Now it looked like even the couches had become ghosts.

Nervous to be alone, Jennifer peeked into the kitchen, searching for Zormna. She was easy to spot. The girl had gone straight to work, quietly pulling open drawer after drawer, as well as the cupboards, one by one, searching the contents.

“You won’t find pillows in there!” Jennifer had only gone to the edge of the tile. She didn’t dare set foot on it, in case her steps echoed. “It’s a kitchen!”

Zormna cast her a dry I know that look, and continued searching. “You can go look for pillows. I am searching for the legal documents.”

Retreating, Jennifer took in a sharp breath. Of course. That was really what mattered. It must have been true reason Zormna had come along.

“Do you really think they’d be in the kitchen?” Jennifer asked.

Hardly looking back at her, Zormna opened the oven next. “You never know. If my great aunt wanted to hide something important, she could have created a secret compartment.”

Of course, Jennifer thought. A crazy paranoid woman who believed she was from Mars would make secret compartments. It probably took a relative to find them. So, thinking about pillows, Jennifer gingerly made her way back into the living room to figure out her options.

Muffled voices came from one of the upstairs rooms. She stiffened, looking to see if the intruders were coming. Half the upper floor-doors were visible from a balcony just above the stairs. It overlooked the living room. Gazing past the huge, hanging wood carving that dangled dangerously over the stairway, all Jennifer saw was the far railing. But that still meant she could not go upstairs for pillows—not unless she wanted to encounter other people breaking and entering. For all she knew, they could be armed and dangerous.

So, she headed to the hallway to the right of the stairway. Maybe the house had a basement. She tip-toed.

Jennifer tried not to stir up too much of the dust on carpet. Her eyes were drawn to the famous wood carving swaying over her head. It swayed with every step those on the second floor made. Half a tree had been used in making the carving. It was long and flat like some kind of fresco. Up close, she could see all the detail: a stampede of horses charging through the desert with tumbleweeds, mesas, saguaros, road runners, jackrabbits, and kicked-up stylized dust clouds. It matched the paintings that adorned the other walls. Most of them were terracotta and sandstone landscapes of flat desert country of the old west—not something one would expect in the home of an Irishwoman in the Midwest.

Jennifer took another step closer, peering up at it as she attempted to pass under, hoping it would not fall on her head.

Zormna came out of the kitchen and began to search through the living room. She shot Jennifer a passing glance before continuing on. Zormna mostly pulled out drawers and looked behind paintings, occasionally lifting a dusty sheet.

She sneezed once, high and light.

“Is somebody there?” a voice from upstairs called out.

Both Jennifer and Zormna stiffened.

“I thought I heard someone.” Another voice echoed.

Heavy feet and the squeak of a door was all the notice either girl got. It was hardly enough time for Jennifer to collect herself. But Zormna sprang into the dining room and was out of sight before either man reached the balcony.

“Hey! What are you doing in here?” A man in a hard hat, dressed in a blue collared shirt and a tie, glowered down at Jennifer. Another, taller man in a gray tweed suit stepped out after him. Both had to be at least in their forties. The man-in-the-suit’s hair was thinning.

Automatically, Jennifer’s cheeks flushed. Then her wits took over.

“Neighborhood watch.” She gestured back at the door. “You left it open. You’d better have a permit to be in here.”

She saw Zormna just inside the dining room doorway out of their line of sight smothering a chuckle. She nodded appreciatively at Jennifer for quickly thinking.

But the man-in-the-hat was not impressed. “Oh really? I didn’t know they let kids join the watch. You were sneaking in. Get out kid, before I call the cops.”

Scowling, Jennifer opened her mouth in protest.

“I said get out,” the man snapped.

Jennifer shook her head, rolling her eyes. She stepped toward the door with one under-handed gesture for Zormna to follow. Cringing, Zormna eventually nodded and marched out after her.

“Ha!” the man in the hard hat shouted. “I knew I saw somebody else! You two, if I ever see you trespassing here again I’ll—”

Zormna turned around with a scathing glare. “Gloating is unbecoming. And leaving the door open is unprofessional—whoever you are.”

And she tromped through the door.

“Hey! Wait!”

Jennifer and Zormna hopped down the porch steps to the grass, exchanging urgent glances.

Feet thundered after them.

The girls turned quickly, preparing to run. But it was the man in the tweed suit that rushed up to them, and not the other one. Breathless, his pale blue eyes fixed mostly on Zormna.

“Are you… are you Zormna Clendar?” He seized his knees, panting.

Jennifer’s eyes widened.

And Zormna blinked at him, taking one step back.

Just as the girl opened her mouth to answer, the man in the hardhat strode out. His hands were in fists and his face twisted with disgust. “Mr. Earnhardt! What is going on? We still have the rest of the house to survey. Do you want me to evaluate it or not?”

Zormna shot a dark look at that man before gazing back towards the man in tweed, answering him. “What would be your intent if I were?”

The man in tweed burst into a nervous laugh, pressing his praying hands to his mouth. Relief and tears crested in his eyes.

“Wait a second.” The man in the hardhat looked from his compatriot, to the girls, then back. “What is going on? Who is she?”

The man in tweed said, “She, my friend, is the one I have been waiting for.”

 Zormna reeled back. Bracing herself for an attack, Zormna set her feet apart in the grass like a kung fu master. Seeing her, Jennifer stumbled out of the way, remembering the girl had gone to military school.

But the man in tweed, sighed more deeply. Gratitude watered from his eyes. He looked skyward as one saying ‘Praise the Lord’. But to Zormna, he said, “Please, calm yourself. What I mean to say is: I am your great aunt’s lawyer.”

“Oh.” Jennifer’s stiff shoulders eased. “That’s right. Mr. Hemmingway or something.”

“Earnhardt,” the man in tweed clarified. His smile was reassuringly friendly.

Zormna drew in a breath, loosening her fists. “I see.”

“Well, I don’t,” said the man in the hardhat. However, his expression had relaxed. “What does this mean for us? Do you still need my services?”

Automatically, Mr. Earnhardt shook his head. “I am sorry. But no. Now that the heir is here, your services are no longer required. I will, however, pay you for your time.”

Satisfied enough, the man in the hardhat cast Zormna another surveying glance before stepping past both girls. He extended one hand to the lawyer, and they shook.

“Good day to you, then.”

“Thank you for coming.”

And he was off. Though, not without another peek at Zormna. This time he checked out the curvature of the girl’s backside.

“Dirty old man.” Jennifer scowled, watching him drive away.

Mr. Earnhardt was smiling, but not at the same thing. His eyes had fixed entirely on Zormna. He was almost hopping like a kid.

“This is amazing. I mean, I know I was supposed to wait at least five years before even thinking about selling the place. And, to be quite honest, I never actually expected you to come. But she insisted. And now you are here! Fancy that!” And he laughed.

Zormna merely raised her eyebrows.

“So! She said you might just show up. But, uh, a little bit of prior notice would have been helpful.” He then checked his watch and glanced back at the inside of the house. “So, do you want a tour first, or… no wait. Where are my manners? Where are you staying? Do you have a place to stay? Because she said you might not have anywhere, considering she’s your only family.”

“She’s staying with my family.” Jennifer waved her hand.

Mr. Earnhardt nodded, pointing at her. “You’re from down the street. Am I right?”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “More like down several blocks.”

“What exactly was that man here for?” Zormna looked back to the road where the hard-hat guy had gone.

“Oh.” The lawyer’s face brightened at the lilt in Zormna’s voice. Jennifer could see it ticking in the back of his head as authentication of something incredibly valuable. “He’s a building inspector. In order to sell the place properly—which I would have done in about three years—I needed to make sure the house was in good condition. I was just getting a head start.”

Zormna’s stared went dry.

“Of course,” his tone going brighter, “Now that you’re here, I don’t need to do that.” He leaned nearer to her in confidence, lowering his voice. “With the way the housing industry has been going, I was afraid I’d never sell.” He smiled again, winking. “Your arrival also makes it so I can claim my finder’s fee!”

Jennifer snickered. For a lawyer, he was a kind of a clown. Then again, thinking about it, he did work for a crazy woman.

Zormna emitted a longsuffering sigh.

And that sobered the man immediately. He nodded then peeked out into the street. “I’m guessing you have more solemn things on your mind.”

Nodding almost tersely, Zormna stepped back to the doorway, indicating that he ought to follow her into the house. For a moment, Zormna seemed taller to Jennifer. And even older—like she was thirty. Was she really only fourteen?

Mr. Earnhardt and Jennifer followed Zormna back inside the house. With a nod to Jennifer, Zormna indicated for her to shut the door.

Jennifer obliged with a shrug, though it was awfully presumptuous for Zormna to be so bossy so soon.

Gesturing toward the dining room on the right, Zormna then marched in, tugging off a cloth from two of the chairs and pulling both chairs out from the table. She indicated for the lawyer to sit, if he would.

The man stared at her, amazed. And so did Jennifer. No matter how much she said she was one, Zormna did not act like she was a fourteen-year-old kid. She acted twenty, at least. And though Jennifer could blame the girl’s military school training, there was something else about her, almost commanding. Something demanding respect.

The lawyer gently sat in the chair.

Zormna took the opposite one.

Jennifer lingered in the open dining room doorway, watching what she realized was a conversation just between this girl and a lawyer.

“About solemn things,” Zormna said to Mr. Earnhardt. “I had expected my great aunt to be alive when I arrived. What happened?”

Suitably grim, the lawyer gazed to his knees and shook his head. “I don’t know really. The police contacted me after it happened. I also spoke with the FBI.”

The expression on Zormna’s face tightened, her eyes more or less staring into space with heavy thought. “Can you tell me why the FBI came to visit my great aunt in the first place?”

He struggled for a few minutes to formulate an answer that he could vocalize. After meeting the blonde’s intimidating gaze a number of times, he finally said, “Look. You must know Asiah was, uh, an eccentric woman.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. Couldn’t he just say crazy?

Zormna peeked up at her and shook her head for her not to comment.

“Yes. I have heard rumors since my arrival.”

The lawyer chuckled. “Ok. You have heard the rumors. But, uh, now that you are here, maybe I can finally ask—what nationality is she? Really. Because no matter how often I asked, she always said she was from Mars.”

“Oh, for…” Zormna set a weary hand to her forehead, cringing. “Irish. We’re from Ireland.”

He smiled, blushing weakly. “I figured as much. It was between that and Scotland was my guess.”

Zormna rolled her eyes with another look to Jennifer who was smothering a laugh.

“Anyway,” he said, “your great aunt had peculiar hobbies. One of which entailed, how can I put it? Dabbling in unusual electronics. Basically, the FBI had gotten reports that a possible drug house was in the neighborhood and they came to investigate.”

“Drug house?” Zormna stared at him as if he had just hit her with the chair

He nodded in earnest. “You know, where people manufacture drugs. Illegal narcotics. Some of the signs are usually ill-kept houses and yards, and, well, extreme high tech security systems.”

“I see.” She waved her hand for him to continue. “And when they found out she was not doing that kind of thing, what then?”

Smiling at her knowingly, he nodded. “Well, you can imagine their reaction to her, uh, believed identity as a visitor from another planet. And they would have blown it off. But when they discovered she had in fact made a satellite dish that could be used to contact aliens in space, well… they took her to the Pennington Sanitarium to be evaluated.”

“Evaluated?” Her wide green eyes stared more, puzzling over it.

The lawyer averted his eyes so that he would not meet Zormna’s piercing glare, nodding. “Yes. They had to find out if she was a danger to herself or the community. At least, that is what they told me when I asked.”

“And?” Zormna was scowling.

He sighed with a shrug. “And nothing. They found her to be harmless.”

“Only,” Jennifer cut in, adding the truth, “she ended up dead a week later on what looked like a drug overdose.”

Startled, Zormna turned, angling her head toward Jennifer.

“She would never do that,” both Zormna and Mr. Earnhardt snapped.

They quickly exchanged a look, expressions lightening.

Holding up her hands in surrender, not willing to have them bite her head off again, Jennifer shrugged. “That was the rumor though.”

“She didn’t believe in using drugs, even the over-the-counter kind,” Mr. Earnhardt informed her, rather defensive too.

“So, it was murder,” Zormna murmured aloud.

Turning his gaze toward her, the lawyer sighed. “I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that the kid next door discovered her upstairs in one of the rooms, dead, with a rubber tie around her arm, and a puncture in her skin. A syringe lay next to her, empty. And there was heroin in her blood stream.”

“Kid next door?” Zormna frowned, taking in this information.

“Darren Asher,” Jennifer supplied, as she knew this part. “The space-crazed nut boy from Pluto.”

Confused, Zormna blinked at her. “The what?”

Snorting, Jennifer unfolded her arms. “He’s a sophomore like me. You’ll see him soon enough. Tall geeky kid who watches too many movies about aliens. He actually believes in the stuff. The dork ate up everything your great aunt told him.”

Zormna stared even more, looking a little nauseous. “The things my great aunt told him? You mean the Mars stuff?”

“I know.” Jennifer chuckled to herself. “Seriously psycho.”

But Mr. Earnhardt shrugged. “Eh. He’s just some harmless kid who helped her out on the weekends. I think he was just humoring her.”

Picturing Darren, Jennifer shook her head vigorously. “Oh no. He believed her. Aliens are all he talks about.”

The lawyer still shook it off, looking back to Zormna. “Anyway, I can’t say much more than that. If you want more information, you will have to get it from that boy.”

Zormna nodded to herself as if making a mental note to do so.

Knowing that would be was a big mistake, Jennifer shook her head. Everyone with sense avoided Darren Asher. She would have to warn Zormna to do the same.

With the end of that topic, Mr. Earnhardt hitched on his cheerful grin again and rose from his seat. Apparently, he wasn’t one to linger on serious subjects—at least not those that didn’t involve money. But Jennifer could see all of this still troubled Zormna. Zormna stared at the tabletop with disgust. But since there wasn’t much of anything they could do about it, Zormna rose also.

“Now,” the man said, smoothing down the front of his tweed coat, “It is my duty to inform you that you are your great aunt’s sole heir. She did have one stipulation. Firstly, you have to show me one of two things. One happens to involve shoulders.”

Shoulders? Jennifer peered at him quizzically.

But Zormna closed her eyes, restraining a shudder. “And the second thing?”

The man sighed. “Well, the second thing is that you need to open a safe for me.”

“A safe.” Zormna lifted her head. “Is that where my documents will be?”

Shrugging gently, Mr. Earnhardt replied, “I don’t know. Personally, I thought the FBI had cleared everything out, including her safety deposit box. Their investigation was particularly thorough. They might even show up at your home in the near future. I hear word that they check in from time to time, since they never caught the killer.”

The FBI, showing up at her house? Jennifer peeked once at Zormna. The blonde’s brows knit together. Disquiet tightened her bow-shaped mouth into a knot. It definitely was cringe-worthy. Her parents would not be pleased with those kinds of people prowling around. Then again (and it was with a sigh when Jennifer realized this) they probably expected it. People like her parents were too careful.

“Let us open the safe first,” Zormna said, rising from her chair.

Nodding, the man led onward.

They went upstairs. Mr. Earnhardt guided them the entire way to the third room on the right. Another door stood on the right on the adjacent wall, as well as the stair to the turret. But this door opened into a home office. Everything was covered in dust here too, from the swivel chair to the bookshelves and desk.

The safe was not behind a painting. It sat heavily in the corner of the business-dedicated room with a dead potted plant resting on top of it. The safe looked thick, formidable, and yet no larger than one of those mini refrigerators. Mr. Earnhardt gestured at it with a shrug. “She scraped off all the numbers and put that bizarre ‘Martian’ writing on it. But she said you’d be able to hack into it without any problem.”

With a militaristic nod to him, Zormna then squatted down on the dusty carpet in front of the safe. Fingering the dial curiously, she turned it a couple times just to get the feel of the thing. Jennifer peered over Zormna’s shoulder, waiting for another miracle from Miss Perfect. The writing was nothing she recognized. Bizarre, certainly. Like little Chinese characters, yet not. There definitely was a sequence, though. The addition of a line to each pictograph counted upward, clockwise.

“Which direction do I go first?” Zormna asked.

Chuckling, Jennifer said, “To the right. It’s just like any old combination lock.”

“And how many combinations?” Zormna asked. Her eyes fixed on the knob.

Rolling her eyes, Jennifer said, “Start with three.”

Mr. Earnhardt leaned back, frowning while he watched both of them. He folded his arms.

Shrugging with a here-goes-nothing sigh, Zormna twiddled out a combination then pulled on the handle. The door immediately popped open.

“I knew it.” Mr. Earnhardt flushed with delight. He seemed to be bouncing on his feet again.

Jennifer huffed. Of course. Perfect on the first try. It was disgusting.

Inside the small thick-walled container lay a pile of manila folders. Jennifer half expected to see stacks of cash. Or some kind of alien bomb—though that was just her crazy imagination running away with her. Zormna methodically extracted each folder, opening them one at a time to inspect the contents. And one by one she stacked them on the corner of the desk, shoving them towards Mr. Earnhardt. When the short stack was complete, the girl heaved a disappointed sigh and rose onto her feet again. “Not what I am looking for.”

The man, however, picked the folders up and flipped through them. Chuckling, he set them aside on the desk then shrugged. “Maybe the FBI confiscated what you are looking for.”

Nodding in agreement, Zormna then gestured to the folders. “Do you need these?”

He shook his head. “No. They’re just old orders for her online business. You can shred them if you want.”

She cast him a funny look, and yet she simply picked them up and tucked them back into the safe, shutting the door, twisting the knob. She turned toward the lawyer again. Her cheeks had colored faintly with a surreptitious peek towards Jennifer. “So, the other thing…”

He nodded with a gesture toward Zormna’s right shoulder.

Zormna flinched. The girl cast Jennifer another wary look. After a brief thought, without any pretense, Zormna turned and said directly to Jennifer, “I need you to step out of the room for a moment.”

“Why?” Affront swelled up in Jennifer’s chest. This was unfair!

Averting her eyes to the side, Zormna said, “This is something private.”

“I can keep a secret.” Jennifer looked to the lawyer for some support, nodding.

Shaking her head, Zormna looked to the ceiling. “All the same. I sincerely need you to step out of the room.”

Totally unfair! After all her help? With a petulant groan, Jennifer tromped past the desk and the bookshelves, most of which contained books on crafting hats and cute handbags. She halted once, then stomped out the door into the hallway.

Mr. Earnhardt gently closed the door.

Swiftly, Jennifer slipped back to the door, leaning her ear next to it, listening. Holding her breath, she took careful notice of all things that were said.

“I don’t need to touch it,” the lawyer explained. “She just said you had to show me the mark.”

“Fine. Definitely no touching.”

Then nothing but silence followed. It felt like forever. What was he doing? What was he allowed to see, but not touch? Something about shoulders. Or her right shoulder. Some kind of strawberry mark?

Finally, Jennifer heard Mr. Earnhardt sigh. “Alright. That’s enough. I am satisfied.”

Jennifer heard feet move. She quickly jumped away from the door and leaned nonchalantly against the opposite wall. She folded her arms in a would-be-casual posture and tried to look annoyed, which wasn’t hard. Honestly, what was the big deal? She could keep a secret.

Zormna’s face was entirely flushed when she emerged from the room. She could hardly meet Jennifer’s eyes. It was weird. It was like she was ashamed of doing something naughty, like showing the man her boobs.

But Mr. Earnhardt grinned, and not with a perverse hormonal smile, but of a man satisfied with his work. In fact, he went right to business. “Well, now that is settled, we can set up a time to complete the paperwork. You will inherit this house, and I do believe a hefty sum of money laid aside by your great aunt.”

Nodding, Zormna finally lifted her eyes to Jennifer. Her face was entirely pink still. “Would you mind letting me stay a few more days with your family until this is all settled?”

Mentally, Jennifer tracked the logic of this question—but it conflicted with reality. Jennifer looked over to the lawyer. “She can’t legally move into this place by herself, can she?”

The lawyer shrugged, first unconcerned. Then he thought more on that as the reality of Zormna’s age sank in. He eyed her with a slight cringe and shook his head. “Ah. That’s a good point. You would have to stay with a legal guardian until you are eighteen, unless you become legally emancipated.”

“I have no legal guardian,” Zormna replied in exasperation, hearing them but not accepting it. “So how can this apply to me?”

Jennifer watched his face contort as he mentally weighed up all the complications, which rose up like thorns in his plans. Of course, because Zormna had behaved herself so seriously, it was easy to forget that she was still, for all practical purposes, a child. He thought it over aloud.  “I’m afraid, because you have no family, you would be put into the foster system. Though, and I am sorry to say this, being a foreigner, you may end up getting deported to the Irish authorities if none your papers are in order.” Already he could see the money from his finder’s feel slipping away. Apparently, it only counted if Zormna stayed in the US.

“Unless…” Jennifer cut in, wishing to help, “…my parents can be named as your legal guardians.”

Those words sent all color out of Zormna. “You mean I have to have a legal guardian?”

Both Jennifer and the lawyer nodded.

“If you can’t find your documents,” Jennifer explained with a cringe, doubtful Zormna would, “Then you need my folks to make things right.”

The girl looked winded. Nodding slowly, Zormna leaned against the banister. “I see.”

Something in Mr. Earnhardt’s face shifted as he listened to them. He cast a puzzled look at Jennifer. “To get started, I think all I need to see is her passport. A photocopy will suffice.”

Jennifer and Zormna exchanged a quick look. The girl had said she had no documents. That had to include a passport.

“It’s not with us,” Jennifer told him, covering for the girl. “We’ll have to go back to my place to get it.”

“Ok.” The lawyer shrugged. “I need to get the files organized anyway.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a business card. He handed it to Zormna. “Call me on Monday and set up a meeting. We can get this thing taken care of, and,” his eyes glittered with the prospect of legal fees, “maybe we can even set up for you to get that legal emancipation, when you are ready.”

All that said and done, the man now ushered them to the front door. Mr. Earnhardt locked it once they were outside, keeping the key.

The man had a skip in his step as he went to his car. Jennifer watched, shaking her head as he drove off. She looked back to Zormna.

To her dismay, the girl just sat down on porch steps. Crouched over, with her arms covering her face, leaning on her knees, Zormna’s back was shaking. She was crying. This time for real.

Jennifer slowly went over to her.

Yet, what could she say? That everything would be all right? Jennifer knew now those words were ridiculous. Everything wasn’t going to be all right—but they would manage. Besides, it had been a long day already, despite the fact that it still wasn’t lunch yet. Maybe the girl just needed a good cry.

So, Jennifer waited, lingering on the front porch.

Gazing out into the neighborhood, Jennifer drew in a breath. The sun was warmer, though the air still smelled of the morning. Or maybe it was just the cool breath of spring. It had been a warmer spring than usual. On the news it had said it was because of climate change. Greenhouse gases. But Jennifer suspected it had to do with how they had an early winter, which had been freezing. Of course, with the state she lived in, it could be freezing and wet tomorrow.

“Jennifer?” Zormna’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Blinking, Jennifer looked back to the blonde. The girl was wiping her face, blushing furiously.

“Tell me about your school.” Zormna did not looking the slightest bit happy about it, though. “You said your parents would not let me just stay home. And obviously I am stuck here for the time being so—”

“Stuck?” Jennifer tried not to be offended, working to see it from Zormna’s point-of-view though not doing too well.

“Fine,” The girl muttered with a sarcastic eye-roll, “I am privileged to be here. The point is, I will need your help. This is your territory, and I, unfortunately am not as socially adept as you appear to be.”

It almost sounded like a compliment. Jennifer wasn’t sure. There was always a tone of condescension with Zormna. It was like she was not entirely sure those she spoke to were at the same intellectual level that she was. Weird, coming from a blonde.

“So, you want me to be your tour guide?” Jennifer said, attempting to guess what Zormna was asking.

Blinking stupidly at her, clearly not comprehending it, Zormna shook her head. “Uh…”

“Because, if you are going to live with us for a while, you are going to need more than a tour guide.” Jennifer then waved for Zormna to get up so they could go back home. “You are going to need a makeover.”

Again, that concept swooped over Zormna’s head. The blonde blinked even more.

“How about a mentor?” Zormna asked, nixing any concept she did not immediately grasp.

Mentor. Huh? Jennifer liked the sound of that. It had dignity. And it put her above the blonde at least on a professional level.

“You’ll be my apprentice.” Jennifer smirked then draped an arm around Zormna’s shoulders, lifting her to her feet.

Something in Zormna’s look at Jennifer’s hand as it rested on her right shoulder, caused Jennifer to pause. Jennifer could feel the shudder run through the girl. But the blonde maintained her outward composure. Thinking on that, Jennifer tucked in the back of her mind to one day find out what Zormna was hiding there.

They went to the alley shortcut together. But as they entered the trash-beleaguered passage, Jennifer noticed that boy, Darren Asher, staring out from the broad picture window of that cream-colored house across the street. He had a sandwich in his hands. He chewed slowly, watching them. Probably, he had been lingering there for a while. His dark eyes examined their alley most intently before he leaned out the window to look to where Mr. Earnhardt had driven away. Zormna paid the boy no notice, heading deeper into the neighborhood shortcut.

“Darren, you weirdo, spying on your neighbors,” Jennifer murmured and turned her back on him. There were enough nuts in the world. It was best to steer this one away from that.

Zormna didn’t talk much on their way home, which was fine. Jennifer dominated the conversation, mostly explaining about Pennington High. It was, after all, a progressive school that had the option to take classes for college credit, and also an A track or B track schedule if the regular six-hour schedule did not work for the student. It was also a lot of fun, which is what Jennifer wanted to impress on her houseguest the most. Pennington had the best wrestling team in the state, of which her brother was a varsity member and his best friends were also. And though their football team was one of the worst—the spectators, cheerleaders, and the band made up for it by providing crazy hijinks during the games. You had to, if your mascot was the pirate. It demanded it.

As they exited the alley and emerged back onto the street, Jennifer finally asked, “So, with me so far? Any questions?”

She asked it mostly because Zormna’s eyes had glazed over after a while. Clearly, the blonde was still trying to think of a way to get out of going to school.

Zormna exhaled, shaking her head a little before saying, “Is attending all those sporting events required?”

Jennifer shook her head. “No. But they’re fun.”

Zormna nodded. Then sighed again.

“You’re not into sports?” Jennifer tried to get a read of the girl.

Shaking her head, Zormna replied, “No. I like sports. But the way you talk about them sounds like they are crucial to succeeding at your school.”

Chuckling, Jennifer shrugged. “I guess in a way, they are. If you want to be popular, you have to be out doing stuff. You know, participating.”

“And what if you do not want to be popular?” Zormna asked.

What a thought. Almost choking on the idea, Jennifer told her, “Well, that’s social suicide. High school kills if nobody likes you.”

Hearing this, Zormna rolled her eyes. “I do not mean wanting to be disliked. I mean, rather, wanting to be invisible.”

“To be a nobody?” Again, the concept just sounded insane.

That got a headshake from the blonde. “To remain inconspicuous.”

Oh. Jennifer thought. Raking in Zormna again, she chuckled, because that was never going to happen for her. Not with her looks. Besides, beautiful, she was unusual. Everyone was going to stare at her whether she liked it or not. It would be impossible not to.

Silence naturally followed. In it, Jennifer’s mind wandered back to the one thing that had been bothering her this entire time. Finally getting up the guts to address it, when they were about a block from her home, Jennifer asked, “I know you think this is nosy, but why did you come here?”

At first Zormna looked confused. She replied, “I thought I told you. My high commander sent me here.”

“But why?” Jennifer pushed. “Why not stay where you were?”

Sighing, Zormna painfully closed her eyes. “It is a secret.”

Jennifer moaned, as this was so dumb. “I’m good at keeping secrets. Seriously.”

“Look.” Zormna’s voice lowered so that it could scarcely be heard. “I told you my parents were murdered. The only reason I am not dead, is that the school’s high commander is a friend of my family.”

Jennifer drew in a breath. This was news.

“He hid me within the school,” Zormna breathed. “And I am only here because the school is no longer safe for me.”

Holy cow. A quick nauseous sensation turned Jennifer’s stomach. Her eyes raked over Zormna’s pale face. Basically, as far as she understood, this girl’s commander had sent her into the equivalent of witness protection. It was no wonder this girl was hardly holding it together. If she were in the same circumstances she would have been scared to death.

 

Frankly Foreign

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

“The greatest minds are capable of the greatest vices as well as the greatest virtues.” –Descartes

 

As Zormna marched across the street to the McLenna home without any more comment on the subject, Jennifer followed, fighting the urge to scream. The only reason she didn’t was because she had spotted her younger brother and sister playing on the front lawn with her brother’s action figures. She didn’t want to frighten them.  

Both redheaded kids lifted their eyes when she and Zormna approached.

“Look, it’s her!” Mindy, the younger one at only ten years, sprang up onto her feet and dashed straight to Zormna, her soft blue eyes eagerly wide. Andrew, who was twelve, jogged up to her with a little more reserve.

Jennifer clenched her teeth, as this was so annoying.

Mindy almost seized Zormna’s shirt front.

Oddly, the blonde indulged Mindy like a pet dog used to being pawed and squeezed. She was even smiling.

“Hey! Are you the girl that is going to stay with us?” Andrew asked, less touchy-feely, thank heaven.

Jennifer elbowed Andrew out of the way. “Don’t crowd.”

Andrew stuck his tongue out, hopping from Jennifer’s reach and going to Zormna’s other side.

 “Are you going to be my new sister?” Mindy gleefully squeezed around Jennifer also. “Because my other one stinks!”

Shooting Jennifer a look with a crooked smile, Zormna saw Jennifer glowering at the both of them. “Do you want one?” her Irish voice lilted.

 Mindy squealed, clapping. “Say something else!”

“Like what?” Zormna stared with that clueless blinking again, willing to play along.

But each accented word on Mindy and Andrew’s ears was like feeding them pure sugar. They went giddy with delight.

And Zormna, to Jennifer’s surprise, went soft. All of her moodiness vanished. And it didn’t look like she was acting either.

Some soldier.

“Are you really from Ireland?” Andrew leaned in, standing almost nose to nose with the blonde. They were around the same height, him a little shorter. “Your hair isn’t actually red.”

“It’s called strawberry blonde,” Jennifer interjected a few feet away.  

But Zormna shook her head. “Not all people in Ireland have red hair. That is a stereotype.”

Andrew and Mindy shared a look. Both shrugged. “Really?”

“Really.”

Jennifer looked to the house again. There were things she had to tell her parents. Besides, if Zormna was going to play with the ‘kids’, her job was done. It wasn’t like she signed up to be the girl’s bodyguard anyway.

But that casual thought shot a chill up Jennifer’s spine.

Did Zormna need a bodyguard?

She glanced to the road. All the things the lawyer had said stroked the inside of her scalp with dread. The FBI had never caught the crazy woman’s killer. It was why they checked in from time to time. So, a killer was still on the loose.

Looking desperately at Mindy and Andrew who were too young to die, Jennifer stiffened. “Um,” Jennifer waved to Zormna. “We should get inside. You know… to… tell my parents stuff.”

And to get that girl away from her brother and sister. At least until she was sure things were safe.

Sighing, Zormna nodded. “There is something important I need to discuss with your parents.” She took a step from the two younger ones. She bowed reverentially to them both. “If you will excuse me.”

Mindy snickered with her hand over her mouth, looking to Andrew. She mimicked Zormna’s bow. “‘If you will excuse me.’ She’s so proper.”

Her brother nodded, amused.

Jennifer let Zormna go into the house before her. Mindy and Andrew attempted to follow, eager to catch more of Zormna’s peculiar behavior, but Jennifer blocked their way. “Not you.”

“You aren’t the boss of me!” Andrew snapped.

Mindy nodded her head sharply in agreement.

“This is private,” Jennifer snapped, glowering a them both.

Both kids huffed in protest, yet they did step back down to the grass, letting Zormna get away for now.

Zormna stood in the entryway, peering back to see what the fuss was about. Jennifer closed the front door quickly.

Turning, Jennifer immediately asked her, “Why are you so proper?”

With another dumb blink again—no dryly—Zormna gave her non-verbal reply of: Military school, remember.

“Look—” Jennifer pulled Zormna further into the living room towards the loveseat, making her sit. “I’m a little stressed out right now. I just realized that the killer who bumped off your aunt could still be in the neighborhood. My family could be in danger.”

Hearing her, Zormna wordlessly looked to the carpet, as if it too had crossed her mind. She didn’t deny it, that’s for certain.

“Who knows you are here?” Jennifer demanded.

Closing her eyes, Zormna replied in a whisper, “Only two people. The high commander of the… the military school, and his son.”

“No one else?”

Zormna shook her head. “No. They snuck me out secretly. They had full access and means to get me here.”

“And no one would connect you with this neighborhood, at all?” Jennifer’s heart beat painfully as she had to make sure her family was safe.

Zormna shook her head again, lifting her eyes. “Not another soul. Only those two know my family connection here.”

That was good news. Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief.

“Look,” Zormna leaned in, watching Jennifer’s face carefully, “I can see you are distraught. And I completely understand why. But if your family was not harmed when my great aunt was killed, then I am sure they are safe.”

“Why would my family be harmed when you great aunt died?” Jennifer asked, her brows meeting together.

Blushing, Zormna muttered, “Nothing. Just…”

Yet it came to Jennifer. She rolled her eyes. “The Irish connection.”

Almost painfully, Zormna nodded. Then she looked around to the back to see if the parents were home. She rose off the loveseat and marched back through the house with an impeccable sense of direction, heading to the stairs. She hardly noticed Todd who had just paused outside the sliding glass door in the backyard, watching them. He had barely finished mowing the back lawn and was now sweeping up the back porch. On the counter were the makings of sandwiches but no mother.

“You’re not going to tell anyone else about—you know—what happened to your family, are you?” Jennifer jogged around the banister to Zormna’s side again to match her quick march up the stairs. “Because it would totally freak them out.”

“Of course not.” Zormna cast her a baffled glance when she reached the top step. “I would not have even told you—but you are relentless.”

Relentless. Jennifer almost laughed. She had been called that before.

“And I think you are smart enough to learn not to ask any more questions,” Zormna added.

“I’m smart enough?” Halting, Jennifer raised her eyebrows, in tandem of course. One day she’d get that one eyebrow. “What? You think you are smarter than me? I’m in honors classes.”

And, predictably, the blonde blinked at that, as the reference flew right over her head. Shaking it off, Zormna muttered, “Whatever.”

The attic door was closed when they came to it. Zormna pulled on the simple cabinet knob, detaching it from the magnet catch. As it opened, Jennifer noticed a shiny new slide-latch lock on the inside for privacy. Both gazed at the transformed space with awe when they stepped into it, all dust gone.

“Wow,” Jennifer murmured, going into the cozy ‘room’. “Mom works fast.”

The blonde nodded, going up the two steps to the higher level, surveying the space. A chest of drawers was set at one side with a pipe hanging empty with one end on a two-by-four segment in the wall and the other resting on the top of the drawers. A handful of empty hangers hung on it. Four shelves were set above the brass bed on the far wall. One already had a clock radio sitting on top, set with the correct time. A cedar cabinet had been placed at the end of the bed. Sheets and old curtains covered everything she was not to use.

“She has been extremely busy,” Zormna’s face was somewhat impassive as she murmured. She then searched around the door. “Too busy. Where is my bag?”

Jennifer shrugged. That peach bag Zormna had brought, she had entirely forgotten about.

Searching almost frantically now, Zormna gained momentum with each place she looked, first going to the empty bureau, pulling open each and every drawer. Then she looked under the bed. Lifting her eyes with an almost frenzied expression, her eyes set on the cedar chest. She sprang to it and flung it open.

There it was, her bag, sitting in the bottom next to a folded-up blanket to use if she got cold at night. This room did not have a heater, after all.

Jennifer watched Zormna drop to her knees, heavily breathing in relief. She clutched the bag to her chest, closing her eyes.

“Ok…” Jennifer walked across the creaking attic floor. “You found it. Great. Now, was all that panicking worth it?”

Lifting a critical eye open onto Jennifer, Zormna frowned. Briskly, she rose, setting the bag back inside the chest.

Annoyed, Jennifer merely rolled her eyes at the girl. “Chill—would you?”

Zormna opened her mouth to retort.

“There you are.” Her mother stuck her head into the room before Zormna could get a sound out. Her mother’s smile brightened on them both. “How was the trip? Did you find any pillows?”

Jennifer slapped her forehead. “I totally forgot!”

“We were distracted,” Zormna explained, her expression returning to her military straight-face. 

“By what?” Mrs. McLenna eyes them, mildly curious.

Angling her head, Jennifer chuckled. “Well… when we got there we saw—”

But her mother waved it off. “Anyway, lunch is ready. Tell me when we get downstairs.”

Jennifer shrugged. There was time later to tell her about the lawyer. And the other things….

Her mother promptly stepped out of the doorway, urging them come through and follow her. She was almost giddy, like it was Christmas. Clearly her mom had too much fun getting everything ready for their new guest. It was weird. Jennifer wondered if maybe she really ought to ask if her mother knew about the deaths of Zormna’s other relatives. She just wouldn’t tell the others.

Jennifer glanced back at Zormna. The girl lingered in the room with that same resigned sigh. Zormna’s eyes trailed over all the things that had already been done. But she didn’t look happy about it.

 “Are you coming?” Jennifer called to her.

Zormna shrugged, picking up her feet to keep up. “I am.”

Back in the hall, heading back towards the stairs, Mrs. McLenna paused, lightly pushing on Jennifer’s cracked-open door when she passed it. “By the way, Jennifer, after lunch you need to clean your room. It is a mess.”

A laugh erupted from Zormna, which she quickly coughed away. There was something snarky about it. Jennifer shot her a look, but Zormna had averted her gaze, pressing her lips together to mask her amusement.

“What?” Jennifer scowled.

“Nothing.” Zormna kept her eyes averted.

They went down.

The entire family had gathered in the kitchen and dining area, though did not sit together to eat. Each person had claimed territory around the tile-covered counter that divided the kitchen from the dining area. Todd stood with a sandwich in his mouth. He stopped chewing the moment Zormna reached the bottom floor. His eyes followed her as she walked up to the bar to get food, scanning her shape like he was trying to memorize it. Mrs. McLenna returned to where she had been assembling the sandwiches. A wide plate stacked full of them rested on the center of the counter. Mindy and Andrew sat on high bar stools, swinging their feet. Mr. McLenna had claimed his spot at the table with a plate and a glass on a cloth placemat. Mostly, though he talked on his cell phone. He waved to Zormna to make herself at home.

“Come sit by me.” Mindy beckoned the newcomer to the stool at her left.

Jennifer shook her head and found a seat at the dinner table. Zormna lingered at the end of the stairs, hesitating. As Jennifer plucked up two sandwich halves, biting in with satisfaction, she called back, “Don’t you have lunch in in Ireland?”

Darkly, Zormna stalked to the empty seat next to Mindy. She deliberately sat like soldier on duty. “Of course, we do.” Yet even as those words died on her lips, she peered over the stacked plate with trepidation. A barely hidden cringe in her jaw, her eyes flickered over the triangular sandwich halves. “What is it?” Zormna whispered to Mindy.

Mindy briefly blinked at her then pointed at the different sandwiches. “That one is PBJ. That one is bologna. There is a ham and cheese one, and I think that one is turkey.”

But the expression on Zormna’s face—wide eyes, almost blinded by the details—said she understood none of it. Desperately, she lifted her gaze to Mrs. McLenna. “P. B. J?”

Immediately the mother handed her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Mrs. McLenna exchanged a look with her husband who, Jennifer saw, was also curbing his amusement. They watched as Zormna took the sandwich in her thin fingers, then pried apart the two pieces of bread to examine the contents.

“Don’t worry. You’ll like it,” Mrs. McLenna reassured her, patting her hand.

Closing the sandwich with a sigh, Zormna grimaced, drew in a breath then wet her lips, lifting the sandwich to it. She took one bite then started to chew.

And chew.

And chew.

Then swallow.

Licking her lips to clear off the peanut butter smear in the corners of her mouth, Zormna slowly nodded to herself, mentally assessing the experience. “You are right. It is… indescribably tasty. Thank you.”

Another amused yet furtive look exchanged between her parents.

Soon their mother sat down to eat as well.

But Zormna did not eat much more than the few bites of her sandwich, taking her time with the flavor. After one bite more, she raised her voice to say, “Thank you very much for this. But, uh, I think it is time Jennifer and I shared with you what occurred at my great aunt’s house.”

Both parents immediately lifted their eyes toward her, giving them their attention. Todd and the others listened, though obviously they had not been told all the details concerning the Irish girl’s stay.

Straight away, much in the manner of a military briefing, Zormna succinctly explained how they had found the door of the house open and who was in the house, allowing Jennifer ample opportunity to chime in whenever she felt like it. Zormna had left out most of the details, such as the part concerning her secret shoulder inspection and the part about opening the safe. Instead, she handed the card Mr. Earnhardt had given her to Jennifer’s father, repeating what the lawyer had advised them—to call on Monday to set up an appointment.

“Basically, though, he needs to see a passport, which,” Zormna cringed with open grief, “you know I do not have on me.”

Both parents shared looks. They didn’t seem surprised really. Though, they were annoyed—though it was not clear at what.

“So,” Mr. McLenna summed up, glancing at the texts on his cell phone, “you are saying he identified you by name? He knew who you were?”

“On sight,” Jennifer supplied while Zormna nodded with a melancholy sigh.

The adults swapped another look with the murmur, “We’ll have to skip the alias then. This is no good.”

“I am sorry,” Zormna said, ducking her head a fraction. “He named me. I did not even introduce myself.”

Jennifer nodded as a witness.

They nodded grimly.

“It can’t be helped, now.” Jennifer’s father remained grim, not just annoyed. “It just would have been better if you had taken on a more common name. There aren’t very many Zormna Clendars in this country.”

“Wait a minute. Clendar?” Todd looked to his parents then to Zormna. A crooked grin formed from the corner of his mouth. “Are you guys saying her aunt is the crazy lady of Hayes Street?”

Immediately there was a tonal shift in the room. The atmosphere grew more… awkward. Almost mirthful.

The parents snuck yet another of their secret looks and sighed together. Addressing their entire household, both mother and father nodded to their children. “Yes. But we are going to be respectful and no longer talk about that in this home. Is that clear?”

Todd’s grin crooked up more. He raked in Zormna’s figure, up and down, and laughed.

Coloring, Zormna averted her eyes, longsuffering, to the ceiling. Her body stiffened.

Mindy and Andrew sat with their hands covering their mouths, trying not to laugh.

“Anyway…” Jennifer said to the lot of them, trying to move it along. “Apparently the lawyer says that he needs a copy of her passport at least to start the paperwork. She’ll be coming into some money, I think.”

“Jennifer…” Her mother’s voice took on warning. There was a sense that this also was not happening.

“I could pay you rent,” Zormna offered, her chin lifting responsibly. “At least until I can apply to become an emancipated minor—according to your law.”

“Rent will not be necessary,” their mother quickly replied, waving it off.

But their father looked thoughtful. Money was, after all, in this economy, a major concern.

“Emancipated minor?” Todd frowned, repeating the part that struck him. “What’s that?”

With another look, their father shook his head with finality and authority, his eyes resting on Zormna who bristled. “We should not even consider that. A girl your age living alone is unusual. It would draw unwanted attention.”

Jennifer nodded to herself. They had to already know about the Clendar family murders then. Perhaps that crazy woman had told them.

“What you need to do is blend in,” he explained to the girl. “Which we will help you do.”

Stiffening, Zormna nodded, accustomed to accepting orders, though she didn’t look the slightest bit pleased. “Yes, sir.”

Most of them went back to eating lunch, not giving it another thought. Zormna hardly took another bite of her sandwich though. She just stared at it, grimly thinking. Jennifer could tell the gears in her mind were working something out.

“So…” Todd inched closer to his dad, asking in a whisper that Jennifer could hear—and probably so could everyone else, but they pretended not to. “How long will she be staying with us?”

Their father looked to her brother dryly. “Plan on a couple months. We don’t know how long it will take for her to get in contact with her sponsors.”

“That would be her commanding officer,” Jennifer interjected.

Her parents sharply lifted their heads. Their eyes quickly flickered to Zormna who was still moping. Her sandwich sagged in her thin fingers.

“She went to a military school,” Jennifer explained, glancing at her also. “She told me he sent her here… for her safety.”

She had to make sure they knew.

And they nodded slowly, their eyes carefully taking in Jennifer’s expression.

“What else did she tell you?” her mother asked, her voice would-be-casual.

Shrugging, Jennifer decided to tell them what was necessary. “That she’s finished with school. She said she graduated. But don’t worry, I told her you wouldn’t let her stay home. I mean, both of you will be off at work, right? She has to go.”

“I could take a job,” Zormna interjected, lifting her eyes from her uneaten sandwich.

Both parents sighed. They shook their heads.

“No one would allow that,” their father told her. “You would be arrested for playing hooky.”

Wearily, Zormna nodded. “Jennifer made that clear enough, thank you.” She shook her head and went back to moping over her sandwich.

“You already graduated?” Todd gaped at her, believing it. “How old are you?”

“Todd…” his mother interrupted before Zormna could reply. “Did you finish with backyard?”

He moaned, turning back around. “Yes. It is all cleaned up.” He then turned back toward the blonde, “So, are you some kind of genius, or did you just take the GED?”

“G. E. D?” Zormna stared blankly, peeking once to the parents for some interpretation.

“It’s a test,” Mr. McLenna supplied patiently. “For early graduation. You can take it if you want.”

“You have to be at least sixteen to take the test,” Jennifer cut in.

Her parents cast their daughter a puzzled glance.

Groaning, Zormna muttered. “What is with you people and age limits?”

Hearing her, their parents chuckled.

“So how smart are you?” Todd pressed, not yet ready to give up.

Groaning more, Zormna rolled her eyes over to him. She clearly did not want to answer. And yet, his eager, waiting grin, showing honest interest caused her to blush. Her sulky expression slipped off, and she said, “There was a course completion test that I took when I was twelve.”

Immediately, their parents drew in breaths. Jennifer could not see what was so shocking.

Zormna nodded to them. “I passed it then.”

They shared yet another look. Jennifer was getting sick of those looks. So secretive. She didn’t like it. So, she asked her parents, “Did you take that test?”

Both of them nodded, somewhat subdued, actually.

“But not at twelve,” her father murmured, making it clear that it was uncommon to take that test so early.

“What age do you usually take it?” Todd looked to them, even more curious—especially as their parents NEVER talked about their life back in Ireland.

With a peek to Zormna before responding, their mother said, “You usually take it once you have completed with your school work—usually by sixteen for the bright students. But most start at seventeen.” Her eyes raked over the blond, personally stunned. “Did you really take it at twelve years old?”

Zormna shrugged apologetically, seeing it upset them.

“Early developer,” their father murmured, his eyes also taking her in. The girl was physically more mature than her age.

“So, you’re a genius,” escaped Todd’s lips.  

Was she? Jennifer frowned. She had yet to see proof of that, though, it might be why Zormna talked down to people. Zormna may have believed she was.

Yet Zormna merely gazed out the kitchen window, glum. “Just ahead of my class.”

Both parents exchanged looks again, nodding with chuckles.

“What’s your IQ?” Todd asked, not letting this go.

Turning her gaze back on to him, Zormna blinked like the blonde she was. “I. Q?” Once more she peeked at the parents for some clue.

Jennifer snorted. “Probably 70.”[1]

With a chiding look to Jennifer, her parents opened their mouths to retort.

“Our test had 150 points possible.” Zormna frowned at Jennifer, comprehending that she was being mocked. “Anything over 100 is considered brilliant.”

“So, what was your score?” Todd looked to his parents—anything to hear more about their pasts.

They blushed.

“Admittedly,” their father said, with a slight annoyed look at Zormna again, “I earned the average score on the test, which is about an 80. That usually means you are a functional, rational adult.”

Zormna gave a pert nod.

Their mother didn’t say anything, but they could tell she had gotten a slightly higher score than their father did, but did not want to admit it in front of him.

“What did you get?” Todd asked Zormna, deciding not to push it with his parents.

Zormna immediately averted her eyes. But as a notion occurred to her, she said to the parents, “I cannot presume those test scores are applicable here, are they?”

Both adults shook their heads, amused.

“Incompatible systems, I’m afraid,” Mr. McLenna replied, glad she steered away the conversation to something more real. 

Sighing heavily, Zormna nodded to herself, trying to remain composed, though she was disappointed. “I see.”

 “What was your score?” Todd asked again. Jennifer knew he would not give up.

Zormna ignored him. “So, all I would have to do is enroll with the school here? And I would attend… when?”

Glad Zormna was going to cooperate without any fuss, Mrs. McLenna relaxed. Their mother had been bracing for some kind of fight, as the intensity in Zormna’s eyes indicated, to her at least, a combative personality. She took up another sandwich half and nibbled on the corner. “Probably starting Tuesday, at the earliest.”

Zormna’s frown deepened. She did not seem to like that.

Todd leaned nearer to her. “Come on. What was your score?”

Mindy and Andrew watched attentively. Jennifer braced for one of Zormna’s mildly hidden brags—or a skillful dodge.

Nodding with more of a bow to their mother, Zormna silently stepped away. She also bowed to their father with no inclination to answer Todd. “Very well. If you do not mind, I am going to retire upstairs. I feel… jet lagged.”

Both adults nodded, dismissing her with a wave.

“Retire,” Mindy snickered with Andrew. And Jennifer rolled her eyes. Zormna was a funny talker.

“Why won’t you share your score?” Todd rose after her. “Was it that bad?”

Lurching to a halt just before the stairs, Zormna turned around with that dark green-eyed glare of hers. Affront all over her face, Zormna snapped, “I procured a 130. Satisfied?”

With a quick about-face, she tromped up to the second floor, though her walk later eased into a march. The attic door catch clicked open and shut in the following silence.

Jennifer’s brows wrinkled together. She looked to her parents who seemed a little pale.

 “What does that mean?” Todd also looked to them.

“It means,” their father said after another shared look with their mother, clearing his throat and regaining his composure, “that living with her is going to be complicated.”

Jennifer decided that was an understatement.

 

Utter silence from the upstairs attic set the tone that Saturday afternoon. Normally Todd would have turned on the TV and watched ESPN, but instead he peppered Jennifer with questions about the blonde while his parents involved themselves in clandestine whatever-it-was negotiating with some guy at a website and on the phone in the front office. It wasn’t until Mindy and Andrew dragged a board game to the attic door and knocked for Zormna when that changed.

“Zormna, come out and play a game with us.”

Zormna stuck her head out with blinks at the pair, rubbing her eyes. They were red around the edges. “What is it?”

Andrew lifted up the box. “Do you want to play Clue?”

Blinking at the box then their eager faces, Zormna’s red-rimmed eyes softened. Nodding, she stepped out of the attic.

But they did not play the game for very long. Jennifer overheard Mindy and Andrew explain all the rules of the game to the last detail for Zormna, including the cards, and the note sheets, and what the purpose was.

She didn’t get it.

Some brainiac.

Finally, in the end, Andrew suggested they play tag in the backyard.

Jennifer didn’t see, but she knew Zormna was barely taller than Andrew, not quite hitting five feet yet. So, of course the younger McLennas believed it would be a fair game. But Jennifer wondered at it, especially since Zormna was so… military. Eventually, after cleaning her part of her bedroom, Jennifer had come to fetch Mindy to clean the rest. Yet when she stopped at the sliding glass door to open it, her eyes took in Zormna. The girl was playing with her younger brother and sister on the back lawn.

Jennifer drew in a breath. It was not tag.

The blonde was expertly standing on one hand for

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 01.04.2017
ISBN: 978-3-7554-7915-4

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