Bitterroot Crossing

  Nick reached for my hand. “We don’t want to be late. I’d swear Hammersmith watches for me through his office.” We hopped on his bike and headed to school.

  Bitterroot Crossing was as beautiful in fall as it was in spring. Burnt orange and deep red foliage lined the road. The town had become amazingly serene since the ghosts had been put to rest. People seemed nicer, more relaxed. The stress of being tormented by unhappy spirits was gone.

  We parked and headed up the steps. “I’ve got to run into the office and make an appointment with my counselor,” he said. “Now that he’s back working, my dad’s really on me about my grades. I’m sort of flunking a couple of classes.”

  “Sort of?” I asked. “Why don’t you come over after school and I’ll tutor you.”

  He tapped his chin like he was considering my suggestion. “Let me see. I’d be sitting cozily on the couch next to you, devouring your grandma’s baked goods, and studying.” He nodded. “Yeah, I think I can suffer through that.”

  I motioned toward the office. “Go inside before I take back my offer.” I sat on the bench outside the office. Nana’s baking had reminded me about my lunch. I pulled it out to see what she’d put inside. I opened the fresh baked bread. It was peanut butter and honey. A shadow fell over me. It was Tina and her two sidekicks. Now that Zedekiah was gone, she was back to irritating me.

  “How cute your little sandwich is,” Tina said. “What’s on it?”

  I looked at the thickly spread peanut butter for a second. It was no doubt yummy, but sometimes you just had to make sacrifices. “Would you like to see?” I lifted the bread and she leaned in closer. That’s when I smashed it into her very pretty face. She stumbled back and threw the bread onto the ground, clawing to get the sticky honey and peanut butter off. Her friends laughed at her.

  Nick came out of the office. He laughed the loudest. I stood and we walked toward our first class. “My mom would have been disappointed, but there is only so long you can try the nice method.” I lifted my hand. “Now my fingers are covered in peanut butter and honey.”

  Nick stopped me and pressed me against the side of the building. He took hold of my wrist and licked the peanut butter off each finger one by one.

  “I may never use a napkin again,” I said breathlessly. When he was finished, my knees felt wobbly and my heart was racing. “Did it taste good?”

  He stared at my lips for a moment then lowered his face to mine. “I guess there is only one way to find out.”

  Safe Landing Excerpt

  Read an excerpt from Tess Oliver’s Safe Landing-now available

  Chapter 1

  On a scale of one to ten, one being the crappiest day and ten being the sweetest, this day was turning out to be a solid two. After nearly slicing my small toe off with the piranha style teeth of the packaging tape dispenser, I knew I was in for a bad one. I just didn’t know how bad until our oversized puppy raced out the door with my pink and yellow polka dot panties.

  I limped clumsily after the dog. “Darcy, drop them!”

  Darcy stopped in front of the moving guy and obediently dropped the panties on the guy’s foot. Through my haze of horror I heard my mom’s voice calling from the front stoop.

  “Brazil, where did you put the box marked kitchen junk drawer?”

  The sweaty moving man, clad head to toe in an orange jumpsuit, grinned at me then at the panties on the steel toe of his boot. “Brazil? That’s a strange name.”

  I inched closer to the guy. Putting most of my weight on the foot that was not wrapped in gauze, I stooped down and swept up my underwear. I shot him a menacing glare, swung my face away from his, and hobbled off with my chin in the air and my neon colored panties clutched in my fist. The last thing I needed was a man dressed like a pumpkin making fun of my name.

  My mom, in her constant quest to be clever, had decided to name me Brazil because that’s where my airline pilot dad had landed on the day I was born. I figured I was lucky he hadn’t been flying to Copenhagen or Turkey. I liked that no one else had the same name as me, but an obvious nickname for Brazil is Bra. A little fact Mom discovered too late. Fortunately, my family settled on Zilly for short.

  Dragging my bloody foot behind me, I hobbled up the steps to the front porch.

  Mom glanced down at my hand. “Why are you walking around with underwear?” She didn’t wait for my response. “Lex is hungry, and I can’t find the can opener.”

  Typical mom. The house we’d lived in since I was born was being emptied of our precious memories, and she was worried that her forty pound cat was hungry.

  “Lex could live six months off the fat in his tail alone. Do you really think you need to feed him right now?”

  Mom had her wavy brown hair tied up in a faded blue bandana, and her face was flushed pink from packing all morning. Darcy, the underwear bandit, came to sit next to her. Every step Mom took was followed by a pack of four legged groupies, two dogs and two cats.

  “I suppose Lex could wait. It’s only a few hours to the new house.”

  “New house? It’s like a million years old.” I pushed past her through the front door.

  “You act like we’re moving into a cave.”

  “We might as well be.”

  The day my mom sat my brothers and I at the kitchen table, silently shoving hot caramel sundaes in front of us, I knew something rotten was in the air. “The beach house your grandfather left me is the perfect place for us,” she’d said between ladylike bites of ice cream. “I can’t afford this house on the child support I get from your father, and Aunt Rachel has offered me a position in her antique shop.”

  I did not talk to her for a week for the second time that year. The first time being the morning she’d held the screen door for my dad because his hands were filled with suitcases. She’d made no attempt to stop him. The twins, Tyler and Raymond, had sat side by side on the couch, watching the entire scene as if it were a movie. That day was definitely a one, and my tears and screams had had no effect on either of my parents. Now Mom was dragging us away from our friends, our schools, and our father.

  The twins’ room was stripped bare of the black gaming boxes, computers, and tangle of electric cords that were normally draped along the wall. They were both lying on their stomachs playing with the handheld games Dad bought them for their twelfth birthday. It was a strange birthday celebration. Our first since the divorce. The boys and I had gone to lunch with Dad and his new girlfriend, Cynthia. Since she and I attended elementary school in the same decade, we had a lot in common. We even shared some favorite cartoons. In fact, when our conversation turned to SpongeBob, my normally perfect postured dad began to slump in his chair. But he seemed happy with Cynthia or Cindy as she told the twins and me to call her. Later that night, we had cake with Mom. The two of us sang a very depressing version of “Happy Birthday”, and the twins tried to act excited about their Batman cake.

  I stopped in their doorway. “It must be nice to have time to relax with your games while your sister, who has lost nearly a pint of blood, hobbles around moving heavy boxes.”

  Tyler sat up with interest at the word blood. Raymond followed. “A pint, really? Where?” They were an inseparable pair following each other’s every move, finishing each other’s sentences, and sticking up for one another no matter what the consequence. When I was younger, I was jealous that they were never without a best friend.

  Raymond slid off the bed. “Let’s save the next level for the drive, Tyler. Mom probably needs our help.” He seemed to be maturing at a slightly faster rate than Tyler. Both boys had dark blonde hair, round blue eyes, and golden complexions that made the girls crazy for them. No doubt the girls at their old school would be in mourning, and girls in their new school would think heaven had opened up and showered them with good fortune.

  They followed me down the hallway to the wall where the family pictures still hung. I handed them each a wad of bubble wrap. “It’s for wrapping the pictures, not for folding and popp
ing.”

  Tyler untwisted it and smiled disappointedly. A thin layer of greasy dust coated the collage picture of our family vacations. The picture in the center was of my parents. Dad was giving Mom a piggyback ride over a stream in Hawaii. I was proud of that picture. They were laughing wildly when I snapped the shot. No heads were cut off, and it was crystal clear, as if they had posed for it. But they hadn’t. Four years ago, when the picture was taken, it was easy to catch them laughing together.

  Tyler held the picture while Raymond wrapped miles of bubbles around it. “Ray, I wonder if we’ll see a ghost right away.”

  “No. I think ghosts are more mysterious than that. He’ll probably start by rattling some doors, flicking some lights on and off, maybe drip a little blood down the walls,” Raymond said with confidence.

  Tyler glanced up at me “What do you think, Zilly?”

  “I think that’s too much bubble wrap for one picture. And there is no such thing as ghosts.”

  Raymond popped a bubble between his forefinger and thumb and grinned up at me. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” He started wrapping the next picture. “But Mom said that a guy went crazy in the house and killed himself there.”

  “No. She said he drowned in the ocean, which means he would not be haunting the house because he did not die in the house. And now you’ve pulled me into your stupid little ghost debate, so shut up and keep wrapping.” I plucked a horse show picture off the wall. I was perched proudly in the saddle holding four blue ribbons. I smeared the dust off the glass with the end of my shirt and handed it to Tyler.

  My brothers were thrilled to be moving into an old house that had a weird history complete with insanity and death. Like most boys, they were intrigued with icky, guts hanging out types of things.A new school did not seem to stress them out at all. After all, why should it? They’d be starting their first day with a best friend at their side. I, on the other hand, would be going it alone.

  My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I handed a family Christmas picture to Raymond and fished the phone out. It was Christy. My best friend, Jenny, and I had taken Christy under our wings in the fifth grade. She was new that year and showed up to her first day of school wearing a red skirt and a yellow sweater with a Care Bears folder tucked in her arms. Jenny and I’d shot each other a knowing glance across the room that said this girl needs our help.

  “Hola” I said trying to sound like it was no big deal I was leaving town forever.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Christy’s voice seemed funny, but it wasn’t from sadness. It was something else.

  I scanned the remaining pictures on the wall. “Nothing is up anymore except a few photos of my past life.”

  Silent pause. “Have you talked to Jenny?” There was that funky tone again.

  “Not today. Maybe I should be asking you what’s up. You sound funny.”

  “Nothing’s up. Have you been on Facebook today?” Christy asked.

  “That was random. My computer only works when it’s plugged into something. I don’t think the moving van has DSL.”

  A weak laugh bounced back through the phone.

  “Christy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What the hell is up?”

  “Nothing. It’s not going to be the same without you.” Her voice cracked and now my throat was tight. For Christy, this move couldn’t be all bad. Two friends always have it easier than three. And without me in the picture, she could stop being the third friend.

  “I’m always a text message away. I’ve got to go, Christy. We’re ready to leave.”

  “I want to hear all about the hotties at your new school. See ya.”

  I snapped the phone shut. That was bizarre, even for Christy. In the mean time, Raymond had wrapped Tyler up like a cellophane mummy. They were laughing hysterically.

  “Glad I can count on you guys to help.”

  Raymond caught his breath. “I wanted him to be safe when we moved him.”

  “Then you should have wrapped it around his fragile brain.” I plucked the final two pictures from the wall. The last one was of five-year-old me sitting on Dad’s lap in the cockpit of his plane. I can remember looking at all the dials and instruments on the panel of the plane and thinking he must be the smartest man in the world.

  My mom stuck her head around the corner. She smiled at the bubble mummy. “I guess we can just toss him in the truck with the other junk. Did you make sure your rooms were cleared? We don’t want to leave anything behind, and the movers are ready to close up the truck.”

  Raymond unwrapped Tyler and we pushed the box filled with photos of our once complete family down the floor of the hallway. Pumpkin man was standing in the family room with that same yucky smile and a half-stacked dolly. I turned and limped back to my room.

  The faded lavender paint on the walls still showed the outline of my pictures and posters. There were clear lines around where Johnny Depp had stared down at me from the ceiling over my bed. The empty wire over my closet, which once held all of my horse show ribbons, reminded me of Suzy Who’s house after the Grinch had stripped it of its decorations. My bay gelding, Carrington, had been another casualty of the divorce. Between the cost of boarding, training, and Mom’s perceived lack of interest on my part, my parents decided to sell him. It would have been more bearable if Carrington had gone to someone decent. But now, Bridgett Kent was riding him with her perky rich girl’s butt and her hundred dollar breeches. I was still waiting for the car I was promised in place of Carrington.

  I glanced around the room. The only reminders of my former life were the smears of mascara on the mirror and the scratch on the hardwood floor when I’d forgotten to take off my spurs. With all the memories I had of this room, it was weird how unfamiliar it looked with nothing but holes in the wall and dust bunnies floating around where the bed once sat.

  The windows rattled as the giant moving truck started its engine. Through my window, I could see Mom sliding the cat boxes into the backseat of the van. “Come on, guys. The pets are in the car, and it’s warm inside.”

  My hand trailed the entire wall of the hallway as I shuffled to the door. My fingertip traced the crevice where the back of the armchair had struck the plaster every time we dove into its cushions. Soon everything familiar would be replaced by everything unfamiliar.

  When I got outside, the twins had already climbed into the middle seat with the dogs, but Mom was standing on the front lawn staring at the house. She wiped her eyes and looked at me. We didn’t say a word to each other. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and headed to the car.

  Jenny had stayed away this morning, and I was glad. We’d said our good-byes the day before. There’s nothing left to say after you’ve said good-bye to someone you’ve known forever.

  I had broken up with my boyfriend, Blake, a week before. Not because I was moving, but because I wanted to. I had had a major crush on Blake Peters my entire freshman and sophomore year. He was incredible, sexy, immortal. I returned for my junior year and Blake was a senior. I was sure I’d experienced my first ten the day he asked me to sit at his lunch table. Unfortunately, sometimes reality can ruin a dream. Somewhere between Blake’s boring discussion about football and his mind numbing explanation of his newest video game, I lowered the day’s rating to an eight. But I continued to date him because he was an adorable accessory for my teal blue Homecoming dress and he had his own truck.

  “Mrs. Flynn’s jacarandas are blooming late this year,” Mom commented as she turned the corner away from our house, our street, our life.

  “Who notices things like that?” I asked. “How many people drive down the street and take notice that a tree is not blooming on time?” My tone was bitchy, but suddenly I was pissed that as she yanked me away from my life, she was concerned the trees weren’t purple yet.

  Mom looked sideways at me. She was wearing her black sunglasses so I couldn’t see her brown eyes. We were practically clones from the nose down, so it was like looking at myself, only
older and less irritated.

  “Someday, Brazil, you’ll be able to see past this.” She made a small arc in front of herself with her arm.

  I imitated her but with an abrupt circling of my arm. “What’s this?”

  “One day, you’ll be able to see past the universe that is solely occupied by Brazil.”

  “My universe is back there, Mom. You are dragging me away from everything that was Brazil.” Painful tears threatened to break loose from my eyes. “You’re the one being self-centered.” The words cracked out of my throat.

  As was always the case, Mom remained completely calm after I hurled the words at her.“We’re all having a lousy day, Brazil. We’re all leaving our lives behind. Not just you.”

  I plopped back hard against the seat and slumped down so that my eyes couldn’t see over the dashboard. With a clumsy hand, I swiped the one big tear that had escaped. I was always the one doing the yelling, and it made me sick to my stomach that she never cared enough to yell back.

  “Mom, how long is it until Vulture’s Cove?” Tyler piped up from the back. The boys were practiced at ignoring my intense discussions with Mom.

  Mom smiled as she glanced back at him in her rear view. “It’s Pelican Bay, Tyler, and it will take a couple of hours. What are the dogs doing back there? Maybe you should crack your windows so Darcy doesn’t throw up.”

  The back windows slid down instantly.

  “Mom, can we decorate the house real creepy for Halloween?” Raymond asked over the noise blowing in from outside. This move was a total adventure for the twins. Neither of them had a worry or sad thought in their heads.

  “I think it will be perfect for a haunted house on Halloween,” Mom answered.

  The twins high fived each other. I shoved my earphones into my ears and cranked the volume on my iPod.

  Chapter 2

  I’d sulked myself into a nap and woke to the sound and pain of my head smacking the window and the pungent smell of the ocean. We’d arrived. Not that I didn’t like the beach. Some of our best family vacations were under our giant, slightly warped beach umbrella. But visiting the beach for an afternoon was one thing. Living right next to it was a whole other deal. So long good hair days.