The Gold
Krista Wagner
Contents
Copyright
Praise for The Gold
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
About the Author
The Gold
By Krista Wagner
Published by Clean Reads
www.cleanreads.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
THE GOLD
Copyright © 2016 KRISTA WAGNER
ISBN 978-1-62135-538-0
Cover Art Designed by CORA GRAPHICS
Praise for The Gold
I loved the way the story unfolded and the magic and mystery were revealed. This book is bound to be a winner with audiences of all ages."
- Susan Day
author and illustrator of the Astro’s Adventures series
The author had a particularly good grasp on the inner workings of a classroom and the subject of bullying. Excellent read. It reads more like a fairy tale or an old folklore. Very beautifully written, and delightfully strange.
-CS
But The Gold is like a knight in shining armor we all need, and this little fairy story ended up charming me by the end! Such a sweet tale of restoration and hope for all the characters, and Amanda was a child I'd love to meet and love on myself!"
-RJ Conte, Author of The Hotline Girl
To my amazing Aunt Patty and Uncle Cecil.
Thank you for believing in me.
Chapter One
When Amanda met the pebble, it was only a speck of dust. It was, in all her experience, the smallest form of matter she had ever seen. She was walking home from her first day of fifth grade when it happened.
It was just starting to rain. The clouds punctuated the sky with opaque shadows—charcoal black and chrome gray. Rain splattered across Amanda’s face as she pulled her silver raincoat closer to her body, trying to keep her books dry as she hurried home. Normally she carried a backpack, but her sister, Jane, had rushed her out the door that morning.
The sidewalk dipped at the end of Acacia Avenue, marked by slopes and natural fractures, deceptively shiny now from the incoming storm. A group of kids rushed past her, pushing her off the sidewalk. Oblivious to Amanda, they giggled as they made their way to the parking lot.
A forest faced the road off to her left. So many trees filled the forest she couldn’t count them all. Her dad once gave her a little lesson about the species of trees. There were pine trees like the ponderosa pine and the lodgepole pine, but the western pine was Idaho’s state tree, the largest tree in the forest. Some of them climbed to nearly one hundred and seventy-five feet. Others reached the same height, like the hemlock, the western larch, and the western red cedar, but the most populous was the Douglas-fir. It was Amanda’s favorite because it reminded her of Christmas.
She glanced at the woods as she walked by, wondering what she might find in there, believing that whatever it was would be better than what she would find at home.
Amanda Greene lived in Sagle, Idaho, miles away from the nearest city, in a ranch home surrounded by large mountains and part of the forest, but situated along the valley floor. Because their nearest neighbor lived several blocks away, Amanda often felt lonely. Of course, that wasn't the only reason.
Fifth grade in 1985 was a lot harder to deal with than she could have imagined. She was shy, so she found it difficult to make friends. At school she was typically quiet, completely different than her outgoing sister, Jane, who was popular at her high school. But what made it all worse was that the isolation was stronger than ever.
Several months before, her mother passed away from a long-term ailment. In her final days, she became nearly paralyzed by the unknown illness, but she had still been able to smile. It was the last thing Amanda remembered about her—a beautiful, gentle, loving smile. She had been close to her mom. She was the one who encouraged Amanda to make friends, to enjoy learning, to write her stories. Mom had been a light in her world. But the past had grown extremely dim. Their dad moved them out of Arizona to Idaho almost instantly. He had a job transfer opportunity, but Amanda knew the bigger reason they had moved was to get away from the sadness that had become a part of their home once Mom passed away.
Amanda stepped in a dark puddle. "Oh no!" she groaned. Her shoes were now caked in muck and they left dirty wet footprints behind her. Jane would be mad if she tracked mud in the house.
A rumble of thunder reverberated across the invisible sky. She looked around her. All of her classmates had been picked up by their parents. With the exception of a handful of bus riders and herself, the kids at Sagle Elementary had rich parents who drove up to the school in nice cars like BMWs or Porsches. Amanda's dad was usually away on a business trip. But walking home wasn't so bad because she got to pass by the forest every day. It seemed so mysterious with its many trees and the shadows from clouds falling all around it like it was hiding something.
Amanda bent her head against the rain as it came down steadily. She was just getting ready to reach the end of the sidewalk when a low, fragile, watery voice echoed nearby.
"Help me," it said. Amanda stopped. Her eyes were bright, alert. She looked behind her. Nothing. Just thousands of raindrops pattering the sidewalk. Had she imagined the voice? Frowning, she turned back around and started her normal walking pace again.
"Help me!" This time the voice shouted from just inches away. Amanda came to a frightened halt, clutching her books tightly to her chest. Slowly, curiously, she squinted to see through the rain now coming down harder than before. Whoever it was should be visible to her, but she could detect nothing through the iron curtain.
Above her, the lightning zigzagged, cutting open the sky. To her left, the trees of the forest glimmered like overgrown emeralds. Amanda shook her head, befuddled. She started walking again. Moments later, she arrived at her home.
Amanda lived with Jane and her dad in a modest ranch home situated on three acres. Though they had lived there for months now, Amanda still hadn't gotten used to calling it her home. A small light emanated through the front window. Amanda stopped at the foot of the driveway. She was hesitant to go inside. But she knew she had to sooner or later.
Shaking off her raincoat, she stepped through the front door. The faint sound of music was coming from Jane's bedroom. Amanda lingered in the narrow hallway before heading to the kitchen. It was a quaint room containing an old stove, a noisy refrigerator, a dripping faucet, and a wobbly poker table with two folding chairs. She placed her books on the table and plopped down in a chair.
"Amanda, the dishes are in the sink!" Jane yelled from down the hall. That meant do the dishes now. She reluctantly got up and went to the sink. There were white bowls crusted with cereal and glasses half full of spoiled milk. The music grew louder, drowning out Amanda's thoughts as she washed the bowls. A moment later, her sister came into the kitchen.
Jane was a tenth grader with a pretty face
. She wore bright turquoise eye shadow, dark pink blush, and rose-red lipstick. She always looked like Cyndi Lauper or Madonna. Everyone liked Jane. But now she lingered in the doorway, a smug look on her face that suggested she was obviously in charge and trying to look older than she was. "Dad's not coming back until next week, so don't give him any reason to be disappointed in you." Jane was crossing her arms and leaning lazily against the doorframe as she glared at her.
Amanda quietly continued scrubbing the dishes.
"I'm not playing this game with you. Westen's picking me up in an hour, so you better not still be giving me attitude."
"OK." Her voice was barely audible. She wished she could just disappear into one of her fairy-tale stories.
"And don't be leaving stuff all over the table. You can do your homework in your room. I have no intention of coming home to a mess."
"OK," she repeated.
Jane left the kitchen and went back to her bedroom, slamming the door. The music was muffled now. Amanda quietly finished washing the dishes, grabbed her books, and went to her own bedroom.
Her room was brushed with pastel tones and softened by fluffy stuffed animals, a wooden dollhouse, a white dresser, and framed photos of herself with her parents and sister. Amanda opened a math book, but her eye caught on a picture of her with her mother, a darker but just as pretty version of Amanda. Sadness filled Amanda's eyes as she lovingly touched the frame.
Then there was a sudden banging on her door. "You're not done," Jane said as she moved down the hallway. That was code for clean the entire kitchen.
"I'm coming."
She returned to the kitchen to wipe down the counters and sweep and mop the floor. A few minutes later, someone knocked at the front door. Amanda heard Jane open it.
"Westen, I'm almost ready."
"You look beautiful." There were kissing sounds.
"It's supposed to be good, according to Jerry."
"They already saw it?"
"That's all right. We'll get to be alone this way." There was silence, then giggling. Soon after, Jane appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Don't wait up."
The front door banged shut. Amanda dropped the mop and sagged to the floor. She wished Daddy were here, but he wouldn't be back for several days.
Chapter Two
In the forest, the rain came to a sudden stop. A muffled weeping echoed weakly through the trees. Cars swooshed past in the distance. A few yards away, the sidewalk was lit only by a dull bulb from a single lamppost.
Amanda cried quietly on her bed as she stared at the pages of her math book. A bright light shone off to the side of her house. She ran to her window. The car's headlights passed by, heading to the end of the street. Not Daddy.
She started to go to the bed, but something caught her eye.
On the dresser lay a stack of handwritten papers. A second pile contained drawings, a few in black and white, most of them in color. She tugged on the pile of images and some papers splashed to the floor. Leaning over, she peered at a black and white sheet. A large bear stared at her. The eyes were heavily coated in black charcoal, the outline of its face painted in heavy black oils. Her face was friendly, unlike a typical bear, and a cartoon bubble drifted over her head, but it was empty. She picked up another fallen paper. This one dripped with lots of color. There was a massive Acacia tree in front of a sunset stretching across the horizon, a rainbow embracing the tree, and a balloon above the tree with a message: "Let's dance!"
Amanda smiled sadly as she ran her fingers over the pages. It was a story she had started shortly after her mom died. She stared up at the photograph pinned to a tackboard. In it, her mother was twirling around, a smile on her face. Amanda's own smile grew wider, happier.
"I'm home!" Jane's voice rang out.
Amanda's smile disappeared. She quickly gathered the fallen papers and stuffed them underneath the clothes in her dresser drawer. Suddenly Jane was in her room, leaning against the doorframe the way she always did when she was disappointed in Amanda, which was every day.
"I see you left the broom out. What am I supposed to tell Dad?"
"I forgot."
She snorted. "It's bedtime."
"Do you ever miss her?"
Jane scowled. "What?"
"Mom. Do you sometimes think about her?" Amanda's eyes drifted back to the photo on the tackboard. Jane shrugged. Amanda's head dropped and she opened her dresser in silence to pull out a nightgown.
"That was months ago, Amanda. She's gone. What good will it do to think about her? She's just a memory."
Amanda spun around, her nightgown squished between her hands. "We never talk about her, Jane. I miss her!" Tears pooled in her eyes as she said this. She reached out to touch Jane's hand, but Jane jerked it away and abruptly left the room. Amanda dropped the nightgown to the floor, unpinned the photo of her mother from the board, and pressed it to her heart.
Sagle Elementary School was just down the road from her house. Amanda had forgotten her backpack this morning. Her arms were sore from the five books she'd had to carry. When she arrived to her classroom, their teacher had yet to come in, so the room was full of twenty kids screaming at each other and laughing. Paper airplanes flew across the room. A girl was blowing a spit wad at another girl who quickly ran out the door. Amanda sat in a corner chair at the back of the room and stared out the window.
The rain was already coming down, which was common this time of year. It was a nice kind of rain that tapped gently against the windowpane. Quickly, she became mesmerized by the rhythm. But then she noticed something else. Past the window. Through the rain. The forest. It looked different through the rainfall, as if it existed in another dimension far back behind the school's playground. She stared at it wistfully.
Suddenly, Shane Smith, a gap-toothed boy with a wide grin on a face that lived for trouble, hopped up on the desk next to Amanda's. "What are you doing?" His voice dripped with amusement. He was always picking on her.
Amanda continued staring out the window, pretending to not hear him. A bird soared over the trees. Shane followed her gaze. "I get it. You wish you were one of those birds so you could fly away too." Amanda continued to look away. But then he nudged her.
Her desk rocked, making a loud metal scraping sound. Everyone else was too busy running around and laughing to notice. "They would probably understand you, the forest animals, coz we sure don't!" He laughed as loud as he could, drawing the attention of a few other classmates, who joined in on the laughing. Amanda tried as hard as she could not to cry. She closed her eyes, hoping to block out the sound somehow. And then, strangely, the room became quiet. She slowly opened her eyes and peered around the classroom.
Gina, an angel-faced eleven-year-old girl with a menacing look, highly respected by all of her classmates, slowly entered the room. The rest of the kids instantly backed away, creating an aisle between the rows of desks. Everyone froze, even Shane, who was still sitting on top of the desk. Gina made her way down the walkway, slowly, deliberately, her jaw clenched. She stopped inches from Shane, her hands curled into fists at her sides. "Back off, Shane. You're just jealous because no one understands you at all." Nervous laughter spilled across the room.
Shane huffed, trying to hide his embarrassment as he returned to his seat. Gina faced Amanda. "Are you OK?"
"Yeah." She barely got the word out.
"What do you see out there anyway?" She sounded genuinely interested.
"Nothing." Amanda was too afraid to say anything. Gina went to her seat and started chatting with her friends. Amanda watched them. They looked comfortable and happy. She hadn't felt those things since her mom had died.
The room got quiet for a second time as their teacher, Mr. Ammons, entered. He was an older man, all business, carrying a briefcase. He walked purposefully, his eyes on the kids who were sitting up straight, their hands folded on their desks, mouths shut. "There will a pop quiz today," he announced. Groans arose from the kids all around.
Shane shot a me
an look Amanda's way, as if the surprise quiz was somehow her fault, but no one saw. She looked at the door—an escape through which she wished she could run and never come back. Mr. Ammons strode down each row with precision, dropping a sheet of paper at every desk as he passed it. Each step he took seemed to match the second hand of the clock hanging at the front of the room.
Amanda stared at the quiz in front of her. The math equations looked like they had been written in another language. She tightened her grip on the pencil, striving so hard to remember how to work the formulas, but nothing came to her. Then she accidentally dropped the pencil. It rolled across the floor, undetected by all but one other person. The quiz slid off the desk, floating helplessly down. Shane turned back around at her and smirked. He was daring her to touch it. Amanda raised her hand.
"Yes, Amanda?" Mr. Ammons sat down behind his desk.
"I need the hall pass." He noticed the dropped quiz and pencil and frowned out of concern, but he handed her the stick wrapped in duct tape. She gladly took it, practically running out of the classroom.
The bathroom contained only three stalls. One of the toilets was running. Wads of toilet paper were stacked next to the trashcan. Amanda peered up at the vents and embraced herself, shivering. Rain continued to fall outside, the sound of it rapping against a small narrow window in the alcove. A gust of wind tossed the American flag like a giant flapping wing as it clanked against the school's flagpole.
She moved toward the last stall, her hand pressing in on the door just as a clanging sound pierced her ears. Behind her, the bathroom door swung shut and revealed Connie, a calm, self-possessed girl who exhibited an otherworldly maturity. In her hand was a similar hall pass. The stick smacked across the radiator, making another clanging sound as if she were bored. Amanda spun away from the stall, hugging herself, her natural response. She dropped her stick, hurried to the door to leave, but ran into Connie's hand.
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