“I have a swim meet at nine,” I blurted out.
“Good. Great. I haven’t seen you swim in a long time.” Though rushed, he sounded upbeat and actually excited to see me, his only child, in action at school.
For a brief moment, I felt normal. “Dad, you can’t do that. I thought you told me no one could know that you were my father.” It was a very brief moment in Normalville.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it. Lexi, honey, did you mention anything about the journals to anyone else?”
“Jack DeWeese is here. I mentioned them to him. But no one else.” I closed my eyes tight. Waited for a response.
“That’s good.”
Good. He said good. I opened my eyes and sat straighter. “So, I can trust Jack and his father, Dad?”
“I… I think so. We’ll talk soon.”
My shoulders relaxed. Soon. We’d talk. Dad loved me. He would answer my questions. Everything would be fine.
“Lexi, I want you to keep your eyes open. Look out for anything strange.”
Strange? Did he not hear what I just told him?
“And don’t mention the journals to anyone else until we’ve talked, okay? I’m leaving the airport. I’ll be there to see you swim.”
“Okay.”
I dressed quickly, making sure to pack extra goggles. I didn’t want anything to ruin this morning.
For some odd reason, I wasn’t angry. I’d always known something was off about me. Weird. Strange. Unusual. But I was still me. And my dad loved me.
And he was coming to see me swim. We would get to have that talk. And he would fix whatever this threat was.
~~~~
What did Dad mean when he said he thought I could trust Jack and Dr. DeWeese? Did he mean, “Yeah, sure. Of course we can trust them.” Or did he mean, “I think we can trust them, but I don’t know.”
Doubt crept in by the time I reached the pool deck.
With headphones in my ears, I stretched in the back corner of the pool area with the rest of my team. “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol played. I purposely positioned myself away from Bree. The last thing I needed was a super dose of that piece of evil.
The other team, our archrival from Frankfort, Kentucky, climbed up on starting blocks and began warming up in one-half of the pool. Spectators filed into the bleachers on the other side of the pool. I kept one eye on the door for Dad.
Jack walked in with other students. His eyes found mine immediately. He offered a wave, a silent hello. He looked at ease in jeans and an untucked black t-shirt. It was Saturday, so students were dressed in casual street clothes.
I shot him a low wave.
When the coach gave the signal, I stowed my iPod away and removed my sweats for warm-ups. Bent over at the waist, I dug through my bag for my goggles. Someone knocked into me, pushing me against the wall. “What the…?” I whipped around and faced Bree.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing.” Bree pointed a finger into my chest. “Stay away from Jack.”
“What are you, eight? You going to call ‘dibs’ next?”
“Just stay away from him, Lexi.”
“Or what, Bree? You’re going to beat me in the big race today?” I asked in a mopey toddler voice.
She stepped closer. Looked down on me. “I’m going to do that anyway.”
Just to prove a point, I smiled, angled my body around her, and waved. She followed my line of vision. Jack just shook his head.
Coach Williams approached. “You girls ready?”
“Sure am,” I said. “Good luck today, Bree.” I smiled.
She glared.
I searched the stands. Still no dad.
Jack shrugged and mouthed the words, “Who are you looking for?”
“My dad,” I mouthed back.
His face registered surprise.
“In the water, Matthews.” Coach stood on the deck. He blew his whistle to start his swimmers off the starting blocks.
The team and I swam a few hundred meters, and when I was done with the warm-up, I resumed my search for Dad. It was no use. I checked my phone. Nothing.
When I was called for a race, I swam. And won.
Then came the race that Bree had looked forward to beating me in all week. The 100-meter freestyle. Eight swimmers stood behind the starting blocks waiting for the command. I glanced over at the door. And to Jack, who mirrored my concern.
“Swimmers up,” the race starter called. He announced the event, the heat number, the length of the race and the stroke.
I climbed up on the block and sucked in a deep breath. I adjusted my goggles. Shaking my arms, I tried with everything I had to rid my body of the built-up tension that pooled at the base of my neck and spread down my arms.
I closed my eyes briefly, pushing all other thoughts from my head other than a picture of myself winning this race. I pictured my father walking in at the last second before the starter sounded the horn to start the race, and he would see me swim.
“Take your mark.”
I put one foot forward and bent over at the waist. My hands curled around the edge of the starting block.
The horn blew. I pushed hard with my legs and stretched my arms out in front of me.
The race was over in fifty-nine seconds. My hands touched the wall second. I lost.
After I ripped my goggles and swim cap from my head, I dipped under the water to smooth my hair back. Coach Williams pulled me out of the pool and gave me a pat on the shoulder. Two lanes over, my arch nemesis on my own team smiled at me and slapped her hand down on the water in an “I did it” sort of way.
I leaned my head back against my neck. Defeated. The taste of chlorine seeped through my lips and onto my tongue.
Still breathing hard, I turned just in time to see Jack looking over his shoulder at me as he followed his father and Dean Fisher out the door. I still did not see Dad anywhere. At least he didn’t come all the way here and see me lose.
“What’s Dr. DeWeese doing here?” I said under my breath. While the rest of the team chatted about our team victory, I headed to the locker room. I raced through my shower and, ten minutes later, headed for the exit.
When I opened the door, Jack waited against the opposite wall in the hallway. His arms were folded across his black T-shirt. He bent one knee, resting his foot against the wall. When our eyes met, he pushed away from the wall. He seemed to hesitate as he stepped.
“Is my dad here?” There was no mistaking the excitement in my voice.
“No.” He stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
“I don’t understand. He called this morning. He was on his way from the airport.”
“Come on.” He lifted his head in the direction of the door. “My father is in the dean’s office. They want to talk to you.” He grabbed my elbow. We started down the hallway.
The feeling started slow—the building of panic. In my stomach. My chest. I stopped abruptly and pulled my arm away. “Something’s happened. What?”
He looked past me, over my shoulder.
“Look at me,” I said. The furrow of his brow shadowed his intense blue eyes. “I’m not taking another step until you tell me what’s wrong. I’m tired of all these secrets.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry about what?”
Jack’s silence was deafening.
“Jack… You’re sorry about what?” My voice grew louder and insistent.
“The police are here, too. It’s your father.”
“What about my father? Is he in jail?” Had he really been in trouble, like Jack said? “Where is he?”
“Let’s go to the dean’s office. They’ll explain everything.”
“Jack.” I gritted my teeth. My hands shook. “Tell me,” I pleaded, my voice lower and more in control. I could handle whatever this was. “Is he in trouble?”
He tilted his head. “There’s been an explosion. Your father…”
“What about my father?�
�� I asked, shaking my head.
“Your father’s car...”
My lower lip quivered. I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. “No, you’re wrong. There’s been a mistake.”
“I’m sorry, Lexi.” He reached his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.
“It can’t be,” I said against his chest. “He was on his way to see me.” We would finally get to talk. He was going to watch my swim meet.
Other swimmers were exiting the locker rooms now. Maybe they had been already, but I hadn’t noticed.
Bree pranced out the door and right over to me. “Isn’t this just perfect?”
Jack dropped one arm to his side, and kept one hand on my arm. I turned to Bree. Her perfect red curls framed her face and a smirk as big as a Kentucky racetrack screamed victory.
“I told you to stay away from him,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
I thought hard at Briana. Go ahead. Get angry with me.
“Back off, Briana,” Jack said. “This isn’t the time.”
A spot of blood dripped from my nose. Want to hit me? Do it. Cause a scene.
“You’re a freak, Lexi. Your stupid nose is bleeding, and I haven’t even touched you.”
“Lexi?” Jack’s voice edged over Briana’s. “Lexi, stop whatever it is you’re doing.”
Come on Bree. Come at me. You want to hit me so bad. You know Jack DeWeese isn’t interested in you. It makes you so mad, doesn’t it? Throw the first punch. Or better yet, throw a weak, girly slap.
Bree came at me fast and with hate in her eyes. She lifted an open hand and aimed it straight for my face. A crowd had formed and witnessed Bree taking the first swipe.
Of course, I was prepared. I caught her wrist and shoved it away. I raised both hands and placed them on her chest, and I pushed with every ounce of rage in me. I shoved her against the wall, and she fell to the ground.
“What is the matter with you?” she screamed. “You think I won’t tell the dean?”
“What are you going to tell him? That you took a swing at me, and I defended myself? Be my guest.” I gestured to all the witnesses.
Everyone gawked at us. Even Jack was surprised. I saw the pity in his eyes, and I felt sick. So, I ran. I ran as fast as I could. I turned the corner and continued until I reached the main doors out of the school. I didn’t need anyone’s pity.
Once outside, I saw a few small gatherings of families in the parking lot. Parents and siblings who’d come to watch their children swim or just to visit that sunny Saturday morning.
To my right was the school’s bus. The driver stood by a tree waiting for students to finish loading.
After wiping any evidence of tears or blood from my face, I approached him slowly, giving myself time to regain composure.
“Good morning, Miss Matthews. Good meet today? The chlorine did a number on those green eyes of yours.”
I glanced toward the door. No one had followed me so far. “Hi, Mr. Jenkins,” I said. “Where are you headed this morning?”
“I’m taking a group into the city. Dropping off at the public library on Martin Luther King.”
“Can you drop me at the nursing home on your way? I’m supposed to work today.”
“Sure, honey. Get in.”
The dean and Dr. DeWeese exited the building, along with a couple of police officers. Jack followed right behind them, searching for me.
I climbed the steps onto the bus and found an empty seat in the back. Sitting, I brought my knees to my chin. The hood of my sweatshirt shielded my head and face. The bus lurched forward and headed for Wellington’s gates. I tilted my head to the side and stared out the window. That’s when the tears came.
My body shook.
My father was dead. I had no one.
No one except the grandmother who’d raised me.
Chapter Nine
I shuffled into the nursing home in Midland, Kentucky, my grandmother’s home for the past six years. My hair hung past my shoulders in damp, brunette waves. Dried tears stung my face. I immediately smelled the scent of Pine Sol mixed with floral arrangements and urine.
Most people who knew me thought I only visited the facility as a volunteer. Few knew that Gram was my only family left in the world.
“Oh, dear, you’ve been crying,” Gram said when she saw me. She was seventy-six years old, and suffered from the late stages of Alzheimer’s. Her silver hair was combed, pushed behind her ears in a neat bob.
I knelt beside her wheelchair. She reached a shaky hand to my cheek, and I leaned into her gentle touch. Her palm was cool and soft against my face. The smell of her hand lotion competed with the flameless candle on the vanity across the room, a Christmas present I’d given her last year.
“Oh, Gram,” I sobbed.
“Do we know each other?” she asked.
I squeezed my eyes tight. Tears leaked out, streaming along already well-worn paths. When I reopened them, Gram stared out the window where a couple of cardinals dangled on a branch of a magnolia tree.
This was not the woman who’d fed and cared for me until I was eleven. The one who drove me to swim practice five days a week, delivered me to and from school until I was in the sixth grade, and made sure I had a place to call home.
No, this was just a shell of that woman, overtaken by a disgusting disease. I saw glimpses of her from time to time, but she was missing the spark she got in her eye every time I came home with an A in math or won the swim races she knew I worked so hard for. When I was happy, she was ecstatic. When I was sad, she was devastated. She even threatened to beat up the first boy to break my heart when I was eleven.
I smiled at the memory.
“What am I going to do, Gram?” I whispered as I curled up in a chair across from her and laid my head against the back. And sobbed harder. My head ached. I couldn’t take in a breath.
Car explosion? Did someone actually murder my dad? Who would want to kill him? I couldn’t wrap my brain around the enormity of it all. Everything was coming at me so fast.
My grandmother pointed at the red and brown birds and smiled.
I cried until I had no tears left.
I wasn’t even sure how much time passed. A lot, because the lighting in the room had changed. The sun hung lower in the sky and cast an orange glow through the mini blinds.
I must have fallen asleep. When I assessed my cramped body, a blanket was draped over me, and my neck ached.
A nurse entered and placed a vase of flowers on Gram’s bedside table. I stood and picked up the blanket that fell to the floor.
“Hi, honey. You okay? Can I get you something?”
I shook my head. “Can you tell me what time it is?”
“Close to eight.”
I was going to be in huge trouble at school. “Where’d the flowers come from?” I asked, assuming another resident had received more than her share.
“A handsome young man brought them in.” She chomped on a piece of gum like her life depended on it. “Oh, and there was a note.” She reached into the pocket of her multi-colored nursing jacket and pulled out a small envelope.
“Thanks,” I said, taking it from her. “Would it be a problem if I stayed here tonight?”
The young woman bit her bottom lip. “I guess it would be alright.”
I glanced toward the brown leather chair and then rubbed at the knot forever wedged between my neck and shoulder.
“That chair actually scoots and unfolds into a horizontal surface,” she said. “I’ll get you another blanket.”
“Really? It’s no problem, is it? Because if it is, I can…”
“Sweetie, it’s no problem. But… don’t you have some place you need to be?”
Eyes that I thought had run dry produced yet another tear. “No,” I managed.
Without further questions, she left.
I pulled a note card from the envelope and leaned in to smell the bouquet of white stargazer lilies and roses.
I am so sorry about y
our dad, Lexi. My father and I want to help. I know you feel afraid and alone, but you’re not. I’m in the front lobby when you’re ready. ~Jack
Jack? How did he know where to find me? How did he fit into all of this?
Well, he was in the front lobby if I wanted to find out. I scratched my bottom lip with the corner of the card.
Bending over, I kissed my sleeping grandmother on the cheek. “I love you, Gram,” I whispered. “I’m gonna find out who did this. I promise.”
The bright fluorescents in the hallway blinded me temporarily. I passed the common area where some men played checkers. One of them threw a checker at Alex Trebek, apparently not liking the answer to Jeopardy’s Daily Double.
Across the room, a familiar-looking man snagged my attention. I stopped and backed up against the wall. I inched forward slowly and peered around the corner. He spoon-fed Mrs. Whitmeyer Jell-O. I’d seen him recently. But where? His wolfish grin sent chills down my spine.
“What are you doing?”
I jerked backwards and flattened my back and head against the wall at the sound of Jack’s voice in my ear. “Geez, Jack, you scared me.”
“Well? What are you doing sneaking around? Spying on old people is kinda rude.”
“I wasn’t sneaking. I just thought I saw someone who looked familiar.”
“Oh, yeah? Who?” He craned his neck to peer around the corner.
I grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him back. A little closer to me than I intended. “Don’t.” His fresh, clean smell practically sent me asking for a wheelchair of my own.
“You’re serious, aren’t you? Who’s over there?”
“It’s no one. Just a friend of my grandmother’s. He’s got a crush on her, and I’m not up to his questions.” I shook my head and tried to laugh.
“How about I give you a ride? You look exhausted.”
“Really? I thought I was looking pretty good. I probably need a little make-up or something, but all-in-all…” I was positive I looked hideous. Red, puffy eyes. Zero make-up. My hair a mess from lack of effort after the swim meet. I didn’t care.
His expression darkened, and he frowned. Except, it was more than sadness. Fear, maybe. “I am really sorry about your dad.”
Mindspeak Page 8
