Page 22 of Rise of the Melody
“See ya,” Chrystamos said.
I nodded and turned as fast as I could to get away from them. The sound of Chrystamos teasing his friend for being denied had my legs moving faster. The sooner I could get out of this town, the better.
Chapter6
The House
Tears burned in the back of my eyes as I piled into Ronald’s backseat with my boots in my hands. I looked gross when I caught sight of myself in the car window. Racoon eyes. Lips faded to a pretty pink—yuck. Hair stuck to my head.
“You sure you don’t want to stay longer?” Ron asked us. “They’re doing fireworks when it gets dark.”
Aunt Lorna shook her head. “It’s been a long day,” she told him. “We’re ready for some rest.”
“I understand,” he said, and began maneuvering his car through the crowds. He tried chatting some more, but I stared out of the window and didn’t hear anything except the gentle murmur of their voices conversing. Aunt Lorna had scolded me the whole way to the car about not listening to her, and how I needed to keep a low profile. I kept seeing the eyes of the mayor and Stevens. Their hatred for me…it felt personal. What the hell had happened here?
My mood caused everything around me to seem malevolent. The trees lining the road loomed tall, like Gaia’s own skyscrapers, and the dense foliage on the ground crowded up to the road’s edge. I stared hard into the shadowy forest, expecting to see a crazed horse at any moment. I scarcely heard Ronald pointing out white lichen on the rocks and talking about how there were two-hundred-something varieties of lichen and fungi in the national park. The farther we got from town, the more remote and thick everything became. I felt a chill and dug through my bag until I found my oversized, faded Hamilton sweatshirt and pulled it over my head. I slunk down and crossed my arms as we turned onto a gravel road.
After some twists, turns, and a hill, I saw the ocean through the trees, which gave me a small thrill. The road here was lined with a short, mossy stone wall that appeared hand built. And then everything opened up to the water and overcast sky as we pulled into a worn circle of dirt mixed with pebbles and oyster shells. I sucked in a sharp breath as I stared up at where we were staying.
It looked like a periwinkle blue gingerbread house with lacy, white, ornate edges. The slanted roof would allow snow to slide easily off both sides. A white porch wrapped around one side, and a mauve door awaited us at the top of the steps. On the left side of the house was a rounded turret with a conical top that went slightly higher than the rest of the roof. The house was a mash-up of New England and Victorian styles with eclectic wood shingles that gave it an old-world European feel. I couldn’t stop staring.
I didn’t remember it at all, but I felt an onslaught of my mother suddenly. Her smile. Her warmth. I couldn’t breathe.
“Oh, Ronald,” Aunt Lorna said softly. “It really has been taken care of.”
“She’s a treasure of the island,” Ronald said, cutting off the car. “At least two hundred years old.”
“Seriously?” I stared at my aunt. “This isyourhouse?”
“Oh, yes,” Aunt Lorna said. “And yours.”
Whoa.“How did I not know we had an old, amazing, oceanfront house?”
Aunt Lorna sighed and shook her head. “I tried not to remember.”
We climbed out and the sound of the ocean filled my ears, a gentle, constantwhooshingmovement of water against sand and rocks. CooShee ran off into the woods. The wildlife had no idea what was coming. As Ron and my aunt headed toward the house, I turned to the sea, lulled by its sounds. The edge of the land bled into huge rocks and sandy crags before falling off in a small cliff down to the water. I could probably climb down there. I felt everything inside of me expand at the sight, taking it in, letting it sink into my soul. How wild to be grounded in nature so completely—no manmade landscapes or honking vehicles or trash in sight. Just Earth as far as I could see.
Waves crashed below, subsiding, receding, then building and crashing again. Over and over, a cycle of purity and power. My hair blew back as a cool gust came over the ledge, and I closed my eyes, letting it chill my bones. This should have been my home. I felt robbed, and a sudden, sad sense of missing out on my heritage.
Warmth and softness hit my hand and I opened my eyes to find CooShee at my side also staring out. He was licking his chops, and I didn’t want to think about what he’d just eaten. I don’t know how long we stood there together. Long enough for the sun to droop lower, sending an even cooler chill through the air. Sheesh. Maine didn’t get the memo about summer coming.
I crossed my arms and turned to face the house. It wasn’t a huge mansion or anything, but it had a historical feel, like it could be a museum. I couldn’t believe I’d lived there the first four years of my life. I knew we’d shared a home with Aunt Lorna but couldn’t recall details.
“Let’s check it out, boy.” My boots crunched the white and gray shells in the loop driveway as we approached. Closer up, I saw the age of the house: some mild peeling of paint, a warped step that needed replacing, a window slightly askew. But there was a sturdiness of strong bones underneath.
I expected the front door to creek—it was a huge, wide door—but it opened silently. The foyer was open to both floors. I stood gaping up. The stairway on one side buttressed out at the bottom and then glided up with shining dark wood. A thinning Oriental rug filled the space, the primary color of blue mixing with golds and peach. Two of our cats darted out from a back room, chasing each other through to the living area. From a doorway to the left I saw a huge farmhouse sink along the wall and heard Aunt Lorna and Ron talking. I began to move forward to join them until I heard his serious tone.
“—scared to death. After everyone went missing the whole town was in turmoil and you were nowhere to be found.”
“I know.” Her voice was filled with emotion. “I left you a note. Please tell me you found it.”
“Three days later.”
“Oh, Gaia. I’m sorry. You must have been so worried.”
“Three horrible days, Lorn. And even then, your letter gave me no details. No reasons. Just that you had to leave.”
“I was so distraught. I did have to leave. Bryant insisted. He didn’t trust me after what Finellasupposedlydid.”
