Losing Penny

by Kristy Tate

  “The real question—the one most important to me and to Drake—is why are you going with him?”

  “Since the grand announcement in yesterday’s news, everyone, and that probably includes the Lurk, knows that I’m not traveling the world and I’m hiding in Rose Arbor.” She would be safe in Richard’s building, under his watchful eye, exactly where she’d been her entire life.

  “Attention Frontier Friends,” an announcer boomed over the loud speaker. “All players please line up behind the stage near the amphitheater.”

  Chapter 49

  He wished he knew how to comfort his mother, but because he knew that nothing he could say would ease her pain, he stayed on his side of the wall, counting stars and finding solace in the moon.

  From Hans and the Sunstone

  “Drake,” Melinda said, smiling, “I want you to meet Gertrude and Claude.”

  Claude and Gertrude had matching hair color. The blond tresses looked a little better on Gertrude, but after a moment of consideration, Drake had to admit that it was because Claude’s hair wasn’t as thick and lush as the donkey’s. The beauty of Claude’s body, his muscle-ripped arms, shoulders and chest—all clearly visible through his thin t-shirt—and his dark brown eyes, so startling compared to his fair hair, so outshone what was on his head that it made comparison to the donkey laughable. Other than her beautiful mane, the donkey had nothing going for her. She had buckteeth, loose lips, a boney body, and a nasty glint in her eye.

  Drake turned to Trevor. “Why are we doing this?”

  “I’m in it for the Bluebird Café. I don’t know why you’re here.”

  Melinda spoke up. “Marx’s Outreach Program is going lend the Bluebird Café money for a major remodel and a marketing campaign.” She turned to Claude and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m president of the Marx foundation, and we like to help small businesses get a new start.” Claude looked impressed.

  Drake sighed at the exact same moment Gertrude blew a warm, oaty breath in his direction. She eyed him and he stared back, convinced the animal could read his thoughts. Gertrude knew that Drake had been blackmailed into ride her, and Drake knew that Gertrude would be thrilled to trample him. I’m riding on you for a summer free of editing and revising, Drake thought.

  And I’m letting you for the thrill of kicking you in the head and trampling over your precious parts, Gertrude’s eyes said.

  Drake wanted to ask Trevor why Melinda was president of Marx’s corporation, but one look at Trevor’s hunched shoulders and he bit back his question. Questions. He had multiple questions, but now wasn’t the time to broadcast them.

  “Go Trevor! Go Drake!” Andrea called from the stand. Her silver hoop earrings glinted in the gym’s harsh lighting as she waved.

  A glimmer sparked in Trevor’s eye, and Drake understood. Trevor liked Andrea. He turned to Melinda to see if she knew, but Melinda had the sensitivity of a turtle wrapped in her own shell of self-importance. He wondered what Don Marx would think about Trevor and Andrea or Melinda and Claude. Drake looked around and saw Don and his own mother sitting on the front row.

  It was odd that they were both here. For one thing, they didn’t belong together, and for another, neither of them belonged in a high school gym with sweaty men and smelly donkeys.

  Drake looked for Penny. She stood in the bleachers beside Andrea. Their gazes locked. She lifted her lips in a small smile and raised her hand to wave. An indefinable emotion washed over him.

  Drake knew words. He used to help Blair collect them for the library’s word of the day. He liked words. He loved language. He liked manipulating it, bending it, and creating new phrases, but as he held the reins of a cranky donkey named Gertrude, he couldn’t define his emotions. Words failed him.

  Part of him wanted to ditch the donkey and vault up the bleachers to tell Penny that he loved her and that he’d been stupid for being so touchy about his work. He wanted to tell her that she could rewrite all of his poems and all of his prose if she’d just stay. Maybe they could rent the beach house from Aunt Mae for not only the summer, but for…forever. He could commute to the university and she could collect recipes, blog, write cookbooks. Maybe she could even move her cooking show to a studio in Seattle.

  An overweight man in a black and white striped referee uniform motioned for the players and donkeys to listen. “I want a good, clean fight,” he said. “The rules are donkey dumb. You gotta be on your donkey to shoot the ball. If there’s a loose ball, you can get off your donkey to get it, as long as your donkey is cooperating.”

  A player, who looked too overweight to be carried by a donkey, smiled and knowingly waved a carrot. Drake shot Trevor a quick glance to see if he had brought a carrot, but Trevor had his attention locked on Andrea. We’ve lost already, and all because of root vegetables, Drake thought.

  “Each team has four riders and one center. The center stands in the middle of the court acting as a relay—no leaving the jump circle unless your team scores. Got it?”

  No, Drake didn’t get it, and he didn’t think he wanted to, but Melinda shoved his helmet into his hands. A whistle blew and the players climbed onto their donkeys. He sat on Gertrude, who did a donkey dance. Drake had never been much of a dancer, but he could learn.

  The ball hit Drake in the chest and he caught it easily.

  “Woo-hoo, Drake!” Andrea and Penny called from the stands.

  Drake passed the ball to Trevor and the momentum carried him right over Gertrude’s head. As he sailed over her ears he had a moment of clarity. Drake realized that everything with Penny had been nothing more than a fantasy and would ever remain so if he didn’t tell her he was sorry and beg her to stay. And that might be difficult to do while staring dazed at the gym ceiling, but he could certainly get up and try.

  Chapter 50

  We all have our own unique trigger foods. A trigger food is anything that can stir us to poor choices. Your body recognizes or associates certain foods as rewards, and over indulging can be as debilitating and mind numbing as drug abuse.

  From Losing Penny and Pounds

  The ref called halftime. Time to meet Richard and time to leave. Penny picked up her bag and slung it across her shoulder. It felt unusually heavy, so Penny looked inside and discovered an unfamiliar wallet. “Odd,” she murmured.

  Penny held it up for Andrea to see. “Did you see someone put this in my bag?”

  Andrea took her gaze off of Trevor long enough to reply. “No,” she shook her head. “Is there ID?”

  Penny flipped the wallet open and saw nothing but a wad of bills.

  “There’s a lost and found by the west gate,” Andrea said, cocking her head toward the exit.

  Holding the wallet in front of her, Penny pushed through the crowd. She felt a little like Alice in Wonderland. When she reached the lost and found stand, the lights flickered then died with an electronic sigh. The park disappeared into darkness. The Ferris wheel cars rocked, a few children began to cry, and a coyote howled in the distance. The moon and stars did their best to shine through the fog blowing in from the coast. Penny stood and listened as she tried to get her bearings. Somewhere to her left was the high school gym. The lost and found stand was to her right. All around her children and adults stumbled in the dark. Someone—a tall, solid figure in a hoodie—bumped into Penny.

  “Pardon me,” he mumbled.

  Penny stepped away and found shelter beneath a slim maple tree. She couldn’t find the information booth, but she did see someone dressed in a uniform. She moved back into the crowd then felt someone tugging on her wrist. Believing it was a mistake she said, “Excuse me,” but the hand gripping her wrist didn’t loosen. In the dark she could only see that the man was wearing a traditional, double-breasted white chef’s coat. She tried to shake her hand loose, but his fingers tightened as he pulled her to a crop of outbuildings. Penny opened her mouth to scream, but the man must have been expecting this. He shoved a cloth reeking of antiseptic into her mouth then yanked her behind
the restrooms.

  Penny tried to spit, but she gagged as he pushed the cloth deeper. She didn’t recognize the antiseptic or the feel of the man who held her pinned against his chest. The smell burned her nose and her vision became hazy. When her body relaxed, the man let go, and Penny fell forward and hit her head against a building. His hands grabbed her wrist and jerked her sleeve up to her elbow. When a needle pricked her arm, she struggled against the pain and the hands, but within seconds a tide of warm lassitude spread through her.

  Chapter 51

  They stole away before morning light in a ship laden with the spoils of his father’s victories and carrying the burden his last defeat. Before nightfall they met the monster. She rose from the water, backlit by the dying day’s sun, a hideous silhouette of destruction.

  From Hans and the Sunstone

  When the ref called halftime, Drake felt odd to be moving without a donkey between his thighs. Funny how only twenty minutes of donkey riding could alter your stride. Hoping his land-legs would soon return, Drake wobbled after Penny. He hadn’t been able to talk to her alone since Richard had arrived.

  He lost sight of her in the parking lot when the lights went out. The Ferris wheel cars rocked, a few children began to cry, and a coyote howled in the distance.

  “Penny?” Drake called, whirling around in the dark. He spotted a tall, heavyset man wearing a white lab coat and carrying something over his shoulder. Something wasn’t right about that man. Drake stood on his toes and again caught sight of the man near the cotton candy machine. With a hammering heart, Drake realized the man wasn’t wearing a lab coat, but a chef’s coat. He hurried after him while fumbling in his pocket for his phone. Drake pressed the first button, his breathing grew ragged while he waited for a response.

  “Dad,” Drake gasped, “I need your help.” Without any further preamble, he explained about Penny, the Lurk, and his suspicions about the man in the chef’s coat. For once his dad didn’t interrupt or criticize.

  “I’ll call the police, you follow that coat,” his dad said.

  “I don’t even know if he has Penny.”

  His dad cut him off. “You have to follow your heart, son. Sometimes when you don’t know what to do, you just have to do what feels right.”

  “Mom,” Drake said. “Call Mom.”

  “I don’t think I can do that, son.”

  “What about doing what feels right? Calling Mom is the right thing to do,” Drake said with force. “She’ll tell Andrea, Trevor, and the others. Dad, I need all the help I can get.”

  It was Viking time.

  Chapter 52

  Relaxation techniques are important tools to have in today’s chaotic world, but they need to be practiced to be developed. Learn to listen to and focus on your breath. Visualize a calm and peaceful place, and learn to incorporate the power of all your senses.

  From Losing Penny and Pounds

  Penny thought about struggling, but she didn’t have the strength. Despite rising goose bumps and racked nerves, she kept her body wet-noodle limp. When the man shifted her in his arms, she tried to peek at him, but her eyelids, as if they were in league with the man and the drugs, wouldn’t cooperate.

  Sometime later she woke in a car with vinyl seats that smelled of Swiss cheese and wine. It felt like they were careening down a canyon road. Penny let the car’s swaying control her movements. Rocking with each hairpin turn, she thought about death without fear or sadness. The drugs had muted any panic, and she found she could consider loss—even torture—from a spectator’s perspective. It was almost as if she’d already died.

  ***

  Penny came to with her face in drool and her head full of wool. She rubbed her tongue over her gritty teeth and rolled her head to look at the stars twinkling through the boughs of oaks. An owl winged past the moon, and his shadow fell across her face. She didn’t know if she’d been sleeping for hours or days.

  The car, listing to one side so that her head sat lower than her feet, was stopped in a lot bordering a towering canyon wall. A thick marine layer blew in from the coast, and it billowed and puffed under the lone streetlight. Scraggly pines and tangles of blackberry bushes bordered the guardrail that kept the canyon foliage from spilling into the parking area.

  Her limbs felt detached from her torso; it was as if they belonged to someone else. She wiggled her fingers and found that they worked despite tingling and stiffness. She didn’t try to sit up. Penny couldn’t form a coherent thought, let alone a plan for escape or a rational for the kidnapping. The strange sense of ease still flooded her body, but instead of being at peace, Penny grew increasingly frustrated with the debilitating apathy. She shifted her legs; they were sweaty and sticky.

  Penny tried to make sense of her surroundings when a flash of light accompanied a sudden cool breeze brushed over her face. Strong arms freed her and she floated through the air on her back. She didn’t feel fear or surprise at being airborne. She hovered in the damp dark until she felt a jolt. She looked around as she descended onto a bed. Faint moonlight touched her face and she buried her face into a pillow. Hands lifted her up and she felt a shock of cold followed quickly by warmth.

  A hot finger touched her slightly parted lips to make sure she was still breathing. She wanted to say something. She wanted him to stay. She didn’t want to be left alone in the dark.

  ***

  Penny woke up shivering. She simultaneously felt hot and cold. Blood pounded in her head and zipped through her veins. Her vision blurred when she tried to open her eyes. The floor and ceiling tipped like a listing ship, and the walls seemed to breathe. Penny wanted to vomit. Her mouth tasted sour and felt dry.

  Someone shifted in the room and she focused on Allen. He slept with his chin tucked against his chest, still wearing the white chef coat. His black hair curled around his ears, and dark stubble covered his cheeks and chin. She wondered how long he’d been there and where had he come from. He belonged in Laguna at the Ritz. Why was he in Rose Arbor? As she stared at him, confused and drug-dazed, the pieces of the puzzle shifted. Allen was the Lurk.

  She used to be like him—large yet invisible. At times it was as if no one saw her. She remembered how she often felt forgotten, just like she sometimes forgot about Allen when he was right beside her. But she had learned to do the same thing with her body that she did with food; turned it from bland to magical with the combination of techniques and ingredients. It wasn’t fair or right for society to not notice her when she was large, and it was ironic that when she was smaller people paid more attention to her.

  She felt sorry for Allen. She had found a way out, but he was stuck in a cycle of invisible desperation that led him to do the unthinkable. She remembered all their conversations as well as the constant impression that he wasn’t really there because he blended so well into the background that she often forgot he was in the room.

  She wore a cotton and lace nightie—Allen had taken off her sundress and neatly folded it on a bedside table. She stretched on the bed and found that her numb limbs worked, but her head began to swim again when she tried to sit up. As she fell back asleep, she thought of Drake and his first kiss.

  ***

  Chapter 53

  Murky green scales oozing with sea foam rose before him, and the monster snarled her warning. “What have we to do with thee?” Hans called with words braver than his soul.

  From Hans and the Sunstone

  Drake stopped running in the parking lot. He wanted to open every car door and trunk. He was confident that Penny and her Lurk were somewhere close, but he didn’t know where to start. He slowly turned into the lot, watching the townsfolk, searching their faces. If only cars wore a chef coats. That chef’s coat niggled in the back of his mind. Who would wear such a thing to Frontier Days? Only a chef. A demented chef.

  Penny had only mentioned one chef—Allen.

  “Drake!” Andrea called, waving from the school gates. He lifted his hand in a half-hearted salute and watched as his mom, D
on Marx, Melinda, and Trevor caught up to Andrea. Drake was surprised and angry that Melinda would even show her face. He couldn’t help but blame her, because he was pretty sure she posted Penny’s picture all over the Internet. A big dark Mercedes spun into the lot, spewing gravel. His dad had arrived. The war council would now start.

  “It’s not much—just a hunch,” Drake explained.

  His dad nodded, lifted his finger, and said, “Excuse me.” Turning his back on them, he punched numbers into his phone.

  Mia frowned at her husband’s back then turned to Drake. “What do you want us to do, dear?”

  “I don’t know,” Drake said. “Other than the Allen and chef coat connection—I don’t know what to do.”

  “We’ll need a car,” Don Marx said.

  “Daddy, not everything is about cars,” Melinda said.

  Don ignored her and turned away with his phone out.

  Melinda reached out and put her hand on Drake’s arm. “I know you must hate me, but I’m really, really sorry.”

  Drake just looked at her hand on his arm and frowned. “This isn’t the time, Melinda.”

  “I just…I feel responsible,” Melinda sputtered, just not to Drake, but to everyone. “I’m not used to that…I don’t like it.”