by E. L. Todd
“I’m beautiful and smart,” Easton said.
Breccan smiled. “Sure.”
Easton ignored his comment. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Let’s just go to the White Wing and hope that something happens. Maybe an opportunity will present itself,” Calloway said.
“So we’re just waiting for luck?” Easton asked.
Calloway shrugged. “It’s been working for us so far.” He turned his gaze back to the book and sighed—everything was redundant. The test was going to be just like these practice exams but Calloway felt obligated to study anyway—it would feel weird not to.
Breccan glanced down at the study book. “You’re wasting your time,” Breccan said.
It was the first time he spoke to Calloway today. Calloway was surprised his first words were so hostile. They were dripping with anger and annoyance. “Why?”
“There isn’t going to be a college to go to,” he snapped. “It’s obvious the people at the White Wing have no idea what they’re doing. And your grades are so bad that you aren’t going to get in anyway.”
The anger started to rise inside Calloway. He was tired of Breccan’s aggressive tone and dismissive attitude. A few weeks ago his cousin said Calloway was a genius and now he thought he was stupid. It was obvious that Breccan was angry with him but it wasn’t obvious why.
Easton tried to diffuse the tension in the air. “The White Wing does know what they’re doing,” she said. “They are just hiding the information from us.”
“I doubt it,” Breccan said. “I think we know more than they do.”
“I don’t agree,” Calloway said. “We noticed that the Hara-Kirs are always in this library but we have no idea why. All we’ve done is killed them—we’re just as ignorant.”
Easton pushed her notebook away. “Let’s get to the bottom of this mystery,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about this since yesterday. Let’s research the building.”
“Where do we begin?” Calloway asked.
Easton looked at the counter on the side of the room. It used to be a storage area for returned books and it had cabinets with drawers along with a few chairs to sit in. “The information about the building will probably be somewhere over here,” she said as she walked to the desk.
They searched through the cabinet and opened the desk drawers, searching for anything that related to the building.
Calloway found a slip that detailed the year it was built. “This library was built in 1912,” he said. “You were close, Easton.”
“I know,” she said as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. Moving the furniture around and sorting through the paperwork was making them all sweaty and hot. Even though it was winter outside the room was still stuffy and warm.
Breccan pulled out a piece of paper. “Here’s the list with people who have fines,” he said. “I guess they didn’t return their books.”
“How is that supposed to help us?” Easton snapped.
Breccan shrugged. “I thought it was interesting.”
Easton sighed and continued to search through the rubble of the library. Dust from the shelves floated in the air and made all of them cough. They ignored the discomfort as much as possible and continued their search.
Easton pulled a folder from the cabinet and skimmed through the papers. She took a seat in an old wooden chair and searched through the contents. All the papers were covered in dust and dirt so she blew the filth from the surface so it was legible. Easton rose from her chair and Calloway looked at her. “I think I found it,” she said.
“Thank god,” Breccan said as he stood upright and stretched his back. Calloway felt the tightness in his lower back and he felt the stress ebb away when he stood upright.
Easton continued to read the paper and both boys stood behind her and read over her shoulder.
“What am I looking at?” Breccan asked.
“It says the library was owned by a man when it was built, including the property that surrounds it, but he sold it in—” Easton brushed the dust off the page so she could keep reading. “To a man in 2002 and he still holds the property to this day. It doesn’t say it was sold to anyone else or the government took possession of the property—the man still owns it.”
“He obviously doesn’t care for it much,” Breccan said.
“Then why does he still have it?” Calloway asked. “No one is using it and it’s just taking up space. He could renovate it and make it into a new library or just sell it.”
Easton nodded. “I have no idea,” she said. She continued to read the paper but Calloway and Breccan walked away, losing in interest in the history of the Grandiose Historian Library. This was irrelevant to the information they needed—it was useless.
Easton gasped as she covered her mouth. Calloway and Breccan both returned to her and waited for her to speak. Easton looked at Calloway with a frightened expression.
“What was your father’s name again?” she asked.
Calloway stared at her for a moment. “Sven.”
Easton took a deep breath. “The Grandiose Historian Library is his—he owns it.”
Calloway grabbed the property deed from her hand and stared at the ink on the page. Even though it was covered in dust, Calloway could read the page clearly, and his heart skipped a beat as he stared at his father’s name.
SVEN MARTINS
The sight was undeniable—they all saw it. Calloway steadied his breathing as he read the name repeatedly, trying to make sense of this revelation in his mind.
“What if it isn’t the same person?” Breccan asked. “It could be another Sven Martins.”
Easton shook her head. “Sven is an unusual name in Fresno.”
The paper fell from Calloway’s fingers and drifted to the floor. He stood there for a moment and watched the wrinkled paper lie on the ground, old and untouched. “It’s him,” he said. “This is the Grand Historian Library—that’s too much of a coincidence.”
“What do you mean?” Easton asked.
“My father was a historian,” Calloway said. “He would have loved this place.”
“Then doesn’t it belong to you, technically?” Breccan asked.
Calloway shrugged. “No one ever told me.”
“What did you inherit?” Easton said.
Calloway was quiet for a moment. “Nothing,” he said. “I have the trunk because Uncle Scott assumed it belonged to me. I never received anything else.”
Breccan raised an eyebrow. “How is that possible?” he asked. “Then where did all his stuff go? Who did he give it to?”
“I don’t have any siblings so I have no idea,” Calloway said.
Easton grabbed the sheet from the ground and read it again. “If your father died, the deed would be changed to your name. And if not, then it would be repossessed by the state. Since this building is abandoned and untouched—”
“What are you saying?” Calloway asked. “You think my father is still alive?”
Easton stepped away from Calloway. The hurt was evident in his eyes along with the anger in his frame. A cascade of emotions was running through him and Easton wasn’t sure how he would behave—she’d never seen him so upset. “Maybe,” she whispered. “It’s possible.”
Calloway shook his head. “No, it isn’t,” he said. “He’s dead—I know he is.”
“Then why is this building still here?” Breccan asked. “Someone must be making payments on it. Your father wasn’t rich.”
“HE’S DEAD!” Calloway grabbed the nearby desk and threw it across the room. He didn’t look at his friends for a moment as he stared at the broken chair and the scattered papers on the floor. His body was shaking from the roaring emotions inside him. “He wouldn’t leave me,” he whispered. “He wouldn’t do that.”
Easton and Breccan said nothing and continued to stare at him. Finally, Easton moved toward him and then wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her chest. “It’s going to be okay, Calloway.”
Calloway
returned her embrace and buried his face in her neck. He felt Breccan’s hand on his shoulder as he patted him on the back. They stood together in silence while Calloway felt his heartbeat return to a normal pace.
“I’m sorry,” Easton whispered.
Calloway hugged her tighter and felt his tears fall. “Do you think he’s really alive?” he whispered.
Easton was quiet for a moment. “He could be,” she said. “The building is still registered to him—I can’t think of a better explanation. And the fact that he never had an open casket or left you anything in his will seems suspicious.”
Calloway pulled away and stepped back. He wiped his tears away on his sweater. “Why?”
She knew what he meant. “I don’t know, Calloway,” she said. “I have no idea.”
Breccan wrapped his arm around his cousin’s shoulder. “He probably had a good reason,” he said. “Your father wouldn’t abandon you unless he had to.”
Calloway wasn’t sure what to think. If his father was really alive he couldn’t think of any reason that would justify his abandonment. Did his father not love him? Did he not want him? His father was very distant with him in the last year of his life. Perhaps he wanted nothing to do with him.
Breccan shifted his weight. “Maybe he’s working with the Hara-Kirs?” he asked.
Easton shook her head. “They don’t work with humans. They just take their essence and kill them.”
“Then why did he have those gifts?” Breccan asked. “How else do you explain that?”
“He was trying to save the Life,” Calloway whispered. “Maybe he’s in hiding because he was caught.”
Breccan shook his head. “Then he would join the White Wing or some other organization.”
Calloway stared at him. “You assume everyone is evil and voluntarily chooses to hurt others,” he said. “Not everyone is like that—especially my father.”
“I’m not assuming anything,” Breccan snapped. “But it’s a possibility—I’m just trying to prepare you for it.”
“Well don’t,” Calloway snapped. “My father would never do that.”
“That’s enough,” Easton said as she stood between them. “I don’t know what this information means,” she said gently. “Anything is possible at this point. Sven could have been compromised while he was protecting the Life and that was the only way he could protect Calloway—by faking his death. I find it unlikely that Sven was working with the Hara-Kirs because they don’t collaborate with humans and he wouldn’t have protected Calloway to begin with—he would have killed him if he was that evil.” She looked at Calloway and grabbed his hand. “But nothing is certain—this is all speculation. There is so much we don’t know about the Hara-Kirs and what happened to your father. Don’t be angry with Breccan—he’s just trying to help.”
His father was mysterious in life but now he was even more evasive in death. If he was alive what was he doing? There were answers that Calloway needed—he refused to be ignorant a moment longer. Calloway took a deep breath then nodded. “Are we going figure it out?”
“Of course,” Easton said as she squeezed his hand. “We’ll see this through.”
An Epic Moment
The next morning, Calloway walked outside the house and sat in the passenger seat of Mr. Avey’s car. Since he was taking the SAT’s, the most important test of his life, he forced the thoughts of his father from his mind—it just made him feel depressed. The idea that his father left him voluntarily, whether it was to protect him or abandon him, made him feel worthless and useless. His father could have left a note explaining his disappearance or asked Aunt Grace to reveal the truth when Calloway reached a certain age, but neither of those events happened. Calloway’s father just left without a backward glance—he didn’t care for him.
Mr. Avey’s voice shattered Calloway’s thoughts. “Are you ready?” he asked. He pulled out of the driveway and drove down the street to the intersection.
“I think so,” he said. “I can’t study anymore.”
“You’ll do fine, Calloway,” he said. “The hardest part is sitting through the exam—it’s five hours long.”
“What if I have to pee?”
Mr. Avey laughed. “They will give you breaks,” he said. “Use them wisely.” They past the intersection and approached the university down the road. When he reached the parking lot, Mr. Avey stopped the car and looked at Calloway. “The best way to do well on a test is to believe that you will do well—have confidence.”
Calloway nodded. “Thanks.” Mr. Avey’s help was priceless, and Calloway knew he wouldn’t be taking this test if it weren’t for him. He pulled out his wallet and counted the money. “Here’s the money for the formal and the application fee.”
Mr. Avey took the dance payment but he returned the money Calloway needed for his college admission. “Put it to good use.” He smiled.
Calloway stared at him for a moment. “You’ve already done so much for me,” he said. “I can’t accept this.”
Mr. Avey sighed. “If someone opens a door for you, you should walk through it.”
He stared at him blankly. “What?” Calloway asked.
“Nevermind,” he said. “Keep it, Calloway. Take your date to a nice dinner.”
“Are you sure?” Calloway asked apprehensively.
“I refuse your money,” he said. “Now go take your exam. And good luck.”
Calloway watched him for a moment. “Thank you.”
“That’s better.” Mr. Avey smiled. “Now go.”
He stepped out of the car and walked to the university entrance. After he registered for the exam and proved his identity, he took his assigned seat and started the exam. The problems weren’t challenging for Calloway and he sped through the test with ease. He was more anxious before the exam than during it—he thought it was ironic. The hours passed by and Calloway didn’t take a break—he was focused on his test. When he finally finished his stomach growled loudly in hunger. The students sitting next to him glanced at him—they also heard it. He felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment and he rose from his seat quickly. Calloway gave his completed exam to the proctor and walked outside. Mr. Avey’s car was exactly where it had been earlier and he sat in the passenger seat.
“So?” Mr. Avey asked.
“It was easy.” Calloway smiled.
“Good,” he said. “That’s a good sign.”
“I hope so,” he said. “Otherwise I’m just a good guesser.”
Mr. Avey smiled. “I sincerely hope not.” He drove down the street and stopped in front of a restaurant that served hamburgers and fries. The smell of the food filtered into the car and made Calloway’s stomach rumble loudly. Mr. Avey looked down at his stomach. “I’m assuming you’re hungry?”
“What gave me away?” Calloway smiled.
“Let’s eat,” Mr. Avey said as he got out of the car. Calloway followed him inside and they sat in a booth by the window while they ate their food. “Is your cousin applying to college as well?” Mr. Avey asked as he ate his fries.
“I think so,” Calloway said.
“Does he need help with anything?”
Calloway chewed his hamburger then swallowed it. He was so hungry that it was the best thing he’d ever tasted—even better than Aunt Grace’s cooking. “He hasn’t said anything.”
“Well, if he needs assistance my door is always open.”
“I’ll tell him,” Calloway said as he ate.
“So are you nervous?” Mr. Avey asked.
“No,” he said. “I’m frightened.”
Mr. Avey laughed. “Just don’t step on her dress and you’ll be fine. And don’t forget the corsage.”
“What’s a corsage?”
Mr. Avey stared at him for a moment then shook his head. “We’ll buy one when he rent your suit,” he said. “Is Breccan going with a date?”
“Yes,” Calloway answered. “He’s going with Easton Rivers.”
Mr. Avey nodded. “She’s smart—very i
ntelligent.”
“Really?” Calloway asked.
“Yes,” he said. “You didn’t notice?”
Calloway shrugged. “I guess not.”
“I used to be like you.” Mr. Avey laughed. “I was oblivious to women and ignorant to their ways, but you’ll figure it out eventually.”
“Are you married?” Calloway asked bluntly.
Mr. Avey wasn’t offended by the question. “No.”
“Do you have any kids?”
“No.”
Calloway nodded then finished his meal. When they were both done, Calloway threw their trash away and they returned to the car. Mr. Avey drove him to a men’s clothing store and then to the floral shop to purchase a corsage.
“Why do I need this?” he asked as he looked at the flowers on the stems. They were wrapped together in an elegant display, showing the winter colors of the season. There were red and white flowers that that complemented the green shoots.
“It’s tradition,” Mr. Avey said. “This one goes on her wrist. The ones that require pins are always messy. This is the better way to go.” He stopped the car when he reached the house. “Good luck,” he said. “It can’t be worse than taking that exam.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said as he got out. “Thank you for everything. I’ll see you later.” Calloway walked into the house and showered before he got ready. Aunt Grace combed his hair for him and made it look presentable. Calloway never did his hair—he let his hair do whatever it wanted.
When Calloway dressed himself in his suit and tie Aunt Grace started to cry. “You look so handsome, Calloway,” she said as she hugged him. She held him tightly for a moment. “So handsome,” she repeated. She turned to Breccan then swept him in her arms. “My boy,” she said. “My boy.”
Calloway and Breccan both rolled their eyes at the same time. Uncle Scott clapped them both on the shoulder but didn’t comment on their appearance, which they were both thankful for.
“We have to take pictures!” Aunt Grace said. “The neighbors let us borrow this camera for the evening. Wasn’t that sweet of them?”
“Yes, it was,” Uncle Scott said.
“Okay,” she said. “Now stand next to each other.”
