Dedicated to my fifteen year old self.
This is the book that I wanted to read.
* * * *
Text, cover & illustrations
copyright 2019 © Paul Manchester
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the author.
To request permission and all other inquiries,
contact Wil Whimsey Publishing Co at wilwhimsey.com
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P22 Arts & Crafts Hunter
ISBN Ebook: 978-0-9848489-2-8
ISBN Paperback: 978-0-9848489-2-5
Characters in this book are fictitious
and are not based on anyone alive or dead.
You can see some of Paul Manchester’s concept art
for this book at his website:
http://wilwhimsey.com/art-gallery/
Map can also be viewed at
WilWhimsey.com/Frey
When you spend an idle afternoon lying in the grass pondering cloud castles far above you, those musings do not necessarily vanish when you are called inside for dinner.
While you cautiously sniff at your mother’s culinary experiments, your lazy thoughts drift away on unseen winds.
And much in the same way that islands of trash collect in the Pacific, these notions float and collect with other dreamy bits over time and gather mass.
There, in that far away mass of this and that, wind blown seeds of whimsy fall, take root, and sprout.
Chapter 1
The Perfect
Hiding Place
“… Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five-Four-Three-Two-One! Here I come!”
Jack started his search for hidden bodies. The best part of Hide & Seek was pretending that you are in the midst of a big adventure and anything might happen.
Jenny hoped he wouldn’t find her. The floorboards overhead groaned with his footsteps. The little girl in the pirate hat pressed deeper into darkness, even though she knew Jack couldn’t see her. But she could see his shadow pass the gaps above.
A dusty beam of light peeked down through a crack in the barn floor. “We see you, Jenny!” whispered the tiny army of dust motes floating within it.
Jenny held her breath and pressed closer to the wooden slats of the mushroom cellar wall. The rough boards poked uncomfortably into her back, but she smiled. He’d never find her! She was small and the barn was enormous.
It was the last afternoon of summer vacation and the barn was rich with black dirt smells. Heavy boy-steps thudded above. She scooted deeper behind the crate, then relaxed a little when the ladder to the loft (far, far above) complained of her big brother’s big smelly feet.
The bumpy earth beneath her butt complained, “Move!”
She considered it.
A squeal of giggles exploded in the loft and pounding footsteps shouted out a desperate race. That would be Millie. Jenny couldn’t see what was going on – but she could hear Millie scrambling down the ladder to reach base before Jack.
“Gotcha!” yelled Jack above Millie’s squeals.
Across the barn, more feet started running – thundering rapid beats like a crazed drum machine. That would be Bry and Finn. There was shouting. Jenny considered sneaking closer to base in the confusion.
* * * *
“Dinner-time!”
Their mom’s voice cut through the screams of laughter.
“We’re not finished!” complained Jack.
Mom was tired. “It’s dinner-time, now! Get in here while it’s still hot! You’ll see your friends at school tomorrow.”
A herd of feet ambled out of the barn and into the yard as Jack hollered, “Olly olly oxen free! Olly olly oxen free!”
Grumbling, Jack started for the house. In his most exasperated sing-song voice he sang, “Hey Jenny! Come out! Come out, wherever you are! It’s dinner time!”
* * * *
But Pirate Jenny was no longer there.
Chapter 2
An Awful
Big Brother
The screen door slammed shut behind Jack. His friends were off to their own versions of home-cooked dinners. He didn’t feel like going inside yet. Outside was the place to be. But with a bang of that screen door, the wild smell of late afternoon dandelions and mown grass was replaced by Swedish meatballs and overcooked peas.
Mom was trying to rescue the peas. “Jack, get the silverware on the table! Jenny, get the napkins and glasses!”
“Jenny’s still outside,” Jack smirked. “She’s probably still waiting for me to find her.” He started gathering forks, spoons and knives from the drawer.
A fluorescent ring lit the kitchen with a cold buzzing light. His mom didn’t understand why Jack thought it should be switched out with something warmer and quieter.
“Frank, dinner’s ready!”
“The game’s still on! Why don’t we do TV trays and watch the game?”
“It would be nice if we could have a real family dinner once in a while. Where we actually looked at each other? Call me old fashioned.”
A low grumble came from the other room, “I should think we all know what we look like by now.”
The TV shut off in the other room while Jack set the silverware and the napkins... and the glasses too.
Mom dumped the noodles out of the strainer into a CorningWare bowl. Stray noodles grasped the strainer bottom tightly. Mom cursed under her breath trying to get them to join their soggy siblings.
“Where’s Jenny?” Dad stood looking annoyed in the doorway. “I turned off the game ‘cause I thought you were all ready!”
“Oh Frank, she’ll be here in a minute. She’s on her way.” Mom set the dish of Swedish Meatballs on the table with a thunk.
Jack squirmed at the barely kept truce in the room, but it was nothing new. “I’ll see what’s keeping Jenny!”
The screen door banged shut behind him.
Jack loved twilight and warm summer evenings. He found peace in the smells of the open land around the house. The yellow fields of autumn. He exhaled. School starts tomorrow.
“Jenny! Get your butt in here!” He ran his fingers through his messy brown hair out of habit. Mom didn’t like the word butt… did he say it on purpose?
‘The half-light and crickets quieted his mind. The chirping played a counter-point to his parents’ patter of petty bickering inside.’
Was that too much alliteration? ‘Parents’, ‘patter’ and ‘petty’ sounded good together. But, Jack wondered if he should rethink that. Jack wanted to be a writer someday.
“Jenny! Get your little seven-year-old hiney in here!” There – Mom can’t object to hiney.
But the yard was silent- except for the crickets of course.
* * * *
“So, let’s go through this again. Where did you last see her?” The Skagit County sheriff’s deputy sat across from Jack who huddled on the couch with Finn, Millie, and Bry. They felt like ducks in a shooting gallery.
They were all starting tenth grade. Finn and Jack turned sixteen in November. He was Jack’s best friend and the tallest of the four. He and Millie lived down the road. She’d just turned fifteen. She had a crush on Finn, who lived next door to her.
Jack thought Millie was annoying. Finn was too nice when she showed up... lately every frickin’ time that he and Finn hung out together! She ha
d black frizzy hair that looked like she’d never seen a comb in her life. She was better at sports than all three of the boys. Which of course gave Jack another reason to hate her. No. He didn’t hate her. She was just generally irritating. That didn’t qualify as “hate” did it? She was like a big sister to Jenny. So, he had to like her for that. Bryton was Millie’s cousin who lived down in Tacoma with his Grandma Wilde. He came up sometimes. He was alright.
But, tonight... Pirate Jenny was missing. They were all friends whatever their stupid issues were. He appreciated that they were there with him. And Jack knew he was a mess.
Outside, three officers searched the barn, the yard, and down by the creek.
Jack’s eyes were red. “I told you, we were playing Hide and Seek in the barn. I was counting by the door. I would‘ve heard her if she tried to sneak past me. That door in back is stuck shut. It’s practic’ly locked! She couldn’t have opened that door. It would’ve been crazy noisy –”
“Easy now,” interrupted the officer – trying to calm the panic spilling out of Jack. This officer was younger than the others. He was dark haired and his uniform stretched tight across gym-built shoulders. His gentle manner made him a natural choice for questioning the kids. But he made Jack nervous.
“We weren’t paying any attention to where Jenny was hiding.” Millie cut in. “We were all looking for a place to hide. I hid in the loft.”
“Could Jenny have been up in the loft with you?”
“No,” she explained as if it were obvious. “There’s only one good hiding place up there – and I was in it.”
The officer took a deep breath and looked at the two other boys on the couch, “So now, you two boys hid in the tool room?”
Finn fiddled with the key on the chain around his neck. Bry looked at his purple tennis shoes and muttered awkwardly, “Yeah.”
The sheriff raised one eyebrow.
Jack snuck a look for his parents who were standing out of earshot outside the screen door. He whispered, “My Dad keeps his old Playboys in the tool room- we aren’t supposed to be in there.”
Bry and Finn were turning a violent shade of red. Millie gave her best look of disapproval.
“I see.” The deputy sighed. “Then you weren’t paying much attention to where Jenny was, were you?”
The boys shook their heads. “No, sir,” they mumbled.
He stood up. “Thank you, kids. I think I’ve got what I need from you.” He looked back at Jack. “We’ll do our best to get your sister back. She probably just wandered off somewhere.”
Jack nodded. He couldn’t help leaning into Finn. His buddy put an arm around Jack and gave a gentle squeeze. Jack started crying hard and not caring if the others saw.
The muscular deputy folded up his little notebook and Jack listened as he walked through the kitchen to the screen door to confer with another officer on the porch.
“Mr. and Mrs. Saunders, Jenny doesn’t seem to be on the property,” said the other officer. “We’ve searched the barn from one end to the other and she’s not here. Officer Peet and I are going to canvas the neighborhood. I’ve got a couple of officers down exploring the creek.” He lowered his voice. “If your little girl tried to find a hiding spot up near the road… kids have disappeared before...”
“Jenny wouldn’t do that,” interrupted his mom’s voice. “She knows she’s not supposed to be up near the road by herself.”
Dad’s voice muttered, “Jack should’ve kept a better eye on her...”
His mother quickly hushed his dad.
Jack died inside and his gut burned with shame. Finn just held him.
The officer’s voice hesitated a moment, “We’ll do everything we can.”
Millie’s mom had arrived earlier to help where she could and now her tall, dark, elegant figure swept into the living room (she was so different from Millie), “Okay, grab your things. I’m driving y’all home.”
Jack dimly felt a hug and Finn’s arm disappeared.
Jack was alone.
* * * *
Jack didn’t sleep well that night. Horrible dreams. When he came down for breakfast, his parents were sitting at the kitchen table in the same positions he’d left them in a few hours earlier. Jenny was still missing. Their eyes were red. They weren’t talking.
He didn’t go to school.
* * * *
Later that day, Jack, his parents, with Finn and his foster-parents, Millie and her mom, the neighbors... everyone canvassed the entire area.
MISSING!
Jenny Saunders, seven years old. Light brown hair, hazel eyes, 47” tall, 45 lbs. Last seen wearing a pirate hat, horizontally striped red and white t-shirt,vertically striped blue and white shorts, and red galoshes.
They stapled and taped up posters with Jenny’s face on electric poles and light posts all around the area. Posted among lost dogs, ads for guitar lessons, and tractors for sale. It was crazy to see Jenny smiling from that mish-mash of colored paper – each fringed with bent phone number tabs – each impatiently waiting to be torn off.
When Jack and his parents returned from posting notices the house was oddly silent. No Jenny.
His parents had never been big huggers. His mom had once said, “Some people need that sort of thing... but that touchy-touchy thing isn’t us.”
This evening, Jack needed a hug. He was probably being too needy. Real boys shouldn’t need hugs.
Besides, this was all his fault. He should have been watching Jenny better! He didn’t deserve a hug.
That evening, there was a long prayer vigil in their living room. Pastor Steve had come by to lead it and a bunch of the church folks showed up. They all sat in a circle holding hands and prayed for God to bring Jenny home safely. One lady spoke in “tongues” which apparently God understood better than English. Whatever worked. Didn’t make much sense to Jack.
Finn and his foster parents were there too. Jack peeked across at Finn every once in a while. Finn looked back and quietly shrugged. Jack hoped the prayers would work. But it seemed like if God cared all that much, maybe Jenny wouldn’t have disappeared in the first place.
He wanted to be out there in the night looking for her. It drove him bonkers to sit still.
Where was she?
Did some sicko grab her from the barn while they were all playing Hide and Seek? Someone really sneaky? Jenny wouldn’t wander off like that!
But it happened while Jack was right there! It had to be his fault.
He was an awful big brother.
Chapter 3
The Bodies
Almost a week had gone by. School had started and Jenny was still missing. Jenny’s face was on the nightly news for the first few days, but now her disappearance was yesterday’s news.
Jack wanted to scream at the TV screen! “She’s still missing! Why aren’t you talking about it?” But he bottled up those thoughts after he’d said them too many times out loud. He felt like a ticking time bomb.
The police had received some calls, but the leads so far were useless.
Jenny was just... gone.
Though there’d been times when Jack had wished that she’d disappear, he’d never really meant it! Did he somehow get his wish? Did everybody know that it was his fault for not watching her?
Jack’s parents were a mess. They were stealth fighting. They didn’t fight in front of Jack. The house was full of tense words and uncomfortable silences. He didn’t need super powers to hear through walls. They said they weren’t arguing. They were discussing. Jack couldn’t tell the difference.
They didn’t hug each other either. So, not hugging was clearly normal.
The house was silent more often than not. Except for the TV which was played so loud that no one could talk. Jack suspected it was intentional. Communication consisted of the fewest words possible.
&nbs
p; His dad took a couple of days off from the office, but on the third day he’d left for work – without breakfast. Dad not eating breakfast freaked Jack out. Dad always ate breakfast. Always. Despite being a church-goer, breakfast was his dad’s true religion.
Jack only took one day off from school. Jack’s mom thought normalcy would help and she didn’t want him to get behind in his classes. As if he could focus on school. But for a couple days she imposed strict rules on everything he did. He and Finn couldn’t walk to school. Their moms took turns with Millie’s mom and drove them all to the nearby high school.
At school, a wave of silence followed Jack in the hallways. Kids stopped talking and stared when he passed. Well meaning kids said sympathetic things, but it seemed like they thought that Jenny might be gone forever. And Jack couldn’t think like that. He just couldn’t.
For most of the week Finn’s mom wouldn’t let Finn come over as she didn’t want Finn to bother them in their time of grief. Jack hated that. As if Finn could ever bother Jack by his presence.
Friday afternoon, Finn was allowed to come over for a bit. Jack’s mom wouldn’t let them go down to their tree fort at the creek... as if a band of kidnappers were hiding and would carry them off too. As if. But Jack couldn’t help fantasizing that if these kidnappers did kidnap them, maybe they’d be taken to where Jenny was hidden and Jack could rescue her!
Jack loved to write stories. Stories where he was someone else and more capable. Not that Jack could ever be a hero. He was more of a side-kick to someone amazing like Finn. Jack was inherently not-good-enough. But his imagination kept getting away from him. Jack had lots of rescuer fantasies. He would imagine how he’d cleverly discover a clue that all the police missed, and track the villains to their lair! He’d triumphantly capture the bad guys, and bring Jenny home. Maybe he’d get his name in the paper or the nightly news! He’d be famous!
But then, he’d feel guilty. He was clearly an awful brother for even thinking about being famous right now. He was cursed with a big imagination and didn’t know how to turn it off.
Olly, Olly, Oxen Frey Page 1
