Walk Through Thorns

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Auntie paused when I joined her at the kitchen table. Her spoonful of cereal hung halfway to her mouth.

"What are you doing up on a monday morning?" she asked.

I said, "Getting ready for school." I was trying to act nonchalant, but the plan for tonight was looming ever present in the back of my mind.

Auntie studied me, and dunked her spoon back into her breakfast. "Are you okay? You went through a lot on the weekend. Maybe you should spend the week home. Howard told me they hadn't arrested all their suspects yet."

"I'd rather go out," I said, "I can see my friends at school." So many lies. What kind of person was I becoming?

Auntie looked skeptical, but relented. We ate breakfast in relative quiet. The only noise was Yog leaping up onto the kitchen counter in his eternal search for food.

It occurred to me that this might be my last meal in here. I'd spent the last month seeing my own ghost. Whatever she had tried to warn me about hadn't made any sense. If I hadn't changed anything, this could be the night.

I looked around at the kitchen with its outdated fixtures and cramped cupboards. Yog was sitting beside the toaster with his frumpy ears. I'd miss this place, it really had come to be home for me.

"You sure you're okay?" Auntie asked me again.

"Yeah," I said. That wasn't a lie. Even if something went wrong tonight, I was doing the right thing.

Auntie narrowed her eyes, watching me.

"You know," I said, "I owe you a lot for taking me in after the accident. You've done a lot for me and I wish there was a way to repay you."

Auntie laughed softly. "You don't owe me a thing," she said, "But I accept payment in tim cards."

After breakfast I hit the road on my bicycle. I figured I better take care of unfinished business, just in case it went wrong. My first stop was Mr. Feral's house. Right in the center of town. The exterior could have used some attention. The grass had overgrown, and a piece of side paneling was hanging loose.

No one answered when I knocked at the front door. His car was here though. It was possible he out for a walk. On my way back to my bike, his neighbor came out.

"Are you family?" she asked.

"A student," I said, "I was hoping to thank him. I'm going away for the summer." I disliked that I was able to think of that lie in the moment.

She pursed her lips, tapped her fingers on the porch railing. "I'm not sure how to tell you this," she said, "He passed away last week. Heart attack. No one has come to clean up his belongings. I don't think he has family in the province."

I covered my mouth. That couldn't be true. He put so much effort into writing those adventures for us, and I never thanked him properly. We never got to see how it ended.

The neighbor rushed down the steps and wrapped her arms around my head. My tears were already flowing.

She said, "I'm sorry. What a terrible way to find out."

I let the emotions flow for a minute, but pulled away from her and then pulled myself together. I said, "It's not your fault. Sorry I cried all over your housecoat."

"Do you want me to call someone for you?" she asked.

I said, "No, I got to get to school. I'm late already."

I had missed home room entirely. I only squeaked into the door for first period seconds before the final late bell. Avery watched me come in the door, and passed me a note as I took my seat. I opened it with care, using my textbook as cover.