The Prophet Calls

by Melanie Sumrow

  My stomach clenches. “But we can’t . . . stay,” I say, my voice catching on the last word.

  Channing points back up toward the house. “We need to go that way.”

  Amy grabs my hand.

  I quickly shake my head. We just escaped and he wants us to go back?

  “It’s the only way to avoid the God Squad. It will take some extra time, but if we can get past the house and then behind the barn, we can take the road.”

  I suddenly remember the long-hidden tracks in the field behind the barn and the cattle gate. “The back road?”

  He nods.

  Doubt tugs at me. “I thought you said that road was impassable in the winter.”

  His lips curl into a sly smile. “For them, maybe. But not when you’re prepared.”

  I glance at his truck and notice the silver chains on the oversize tires.

  “And they don’t know it like I do,” Channing adds. “On and off since the first snowfall, I’ve been going farther and farther into the woods. I know every drift and downed branch.”

  “Where does the road lead?” I ask.

  He makes a big circle with his finger. “The long way around town until it eventually connects with the highway.” Channing’s arm drops to his side. “It’ll take an extra hour or so to get through the woods and past where they’ll be waiting, but it will work.”

  Amy nervously squeezes my hand. “Someone could still see us from the house before we get there.”

  “She’s right,” I say with a nod. “Or what if someone’s already milling around?” The thought makes me shudder. I check over my shoulder but see only more snow and trees. I face Channing and take a breath, attempting to calm my racing heart. “It’ll look pretty suspicious: the three of us riding around in your truck.”

  “No one will see you,” he says and then gives me a nervous glance. “If you’re willing to hide in the back under the cover.”

  Amy releases my hand. “In the bed of the truck?”

  My muscles tighten on instinct. “Forget it.” I was able to get out of Watchful without hiding in the back of Tanner’s truck. “We can hide behind your seat and—”

  “Won’t work,” Channing says, cutting me off.

  “I’ve done it before,” I argue. “Under a blanket.”

  “There’s not enough room for both of you,” he explains.

  Amy shivers and gives me a worried look. Her eyes water from the cold. “I don’t want to ride in the back alone.”

  “You won’t,” I say and rub my sister’s arms, hoping to comfort her and keep us both warm. If only I could think of another way out.

  A twig snaps behind us, making us all jump.

  I spin around. Amy shrieks with joy. Between a pair of bald trees, the white rabbit stands on his hind legs, his long ears twitching. My sister nudges me with a whisper, “He’s come to say good-bye.”

  “I think you’re right,” Channing says under his breath. He smiles. “Don’t you have something you want to give him?”

  Amy looks confused for a second. I smile and nudge her side to remind her. She trembles with excitement and plunges her hand inside her coat before pulling the carrot from her pocket.

  The rabbit’s nose twitches.

  Amy tosses the carrot a few feet away from us; it lands softly in the snow.

  Dropping to all fours, the rabbit hops to Amy’s gift and, after giving it a quick sniff, begins to nibble.

  “We better go,” Channing says, moving toward his truck. “We want to be long gone before the sun comes up.”

  Amy doesn’t move. “Good-bye, rabbit,” she whispers and then takes my hand.

  We stay that way for a second, watching him eat, until I gently tug her toward the running truck.

  The exhaust curls around us and makes me cough. Channing pops the back. Amy jumps up and slides across the truck bed, pushing aside gas cans and a snow shovel before huddling under a quilt.

  “I’ll let you out as soon as it’s safe,” Channing says and then raises a hand. “Promise.”

  “It’s warmer here,” Amy says.

  I eye the dark space and the lid that will trap us inside. My pulse thrums as I think of being locked inside Uncle Max’s cubby all those years ago by Dirk. I’d been forced to hide. I was alone.

  Amy smiles. “You coming?” she asks.

  This time feels different. With a nod, I quickly jump up into the bed of the truck and slide in next to my sister.

  “Watch your head,” Channing says as I wrap my arms around Amy, sharing her warmth. We duck. He gives me a wink. “See you on the other side.”

  The space goes dark as he lowers the cover. Amy throws the blanket over me, too. The lock latches.

  I tuck my nose beneath Mother’s scarf, breathing in her smell. To my surprise, I’m suddenly more tired than scared.

  The tires press against the snow as we move, and after several minutes, my sister whispers over the hum of the engine, “Gentry?”

  “Yes?”

  She shifts against my side. “Do you think we’ll ever see them again?” I know she’s talking about Mother and Baby Bill.

  I hold her tight, reminded of Father’s story about the boy who left his family and could never return to them because the gorge was too large to cross.

  “We can try,” I say, and kiss the top of her head.

  Maybe instead of concentrating on the giant hole that seems too deep and wide, we can look for the bridge instead.

  It may take us a long time to find it. It may not. But, with some work, we may be able to find our way back home.

  20.

  One Month Later

  I sit in the hairstylist’s swivel chair. Beneath the black cape, my fingers tug the knees of my jeans. Long, red hair clippings mix with my sister’s blond cuttings on the linoleum floor. The hair dryer blows hot air across my neck and makes the red and pink hearts taped to the ceiling sway back and forth.

  Dr. Lawrence, the woman who’s helping Tanner and the other lost boys (and, I guess, the lost girls now), explained to us that Valentine’s Day is a holiday about love.

  Amy puffs her breath, making her freshly cut bangs fly off her forehead. Dr. Lawrence adjusts her red glasses. She sits next to my sister and gives me a thumbs-up. “Looking good,” Dr. Lawrence says.

  Amy stops fiddling with her bangs and sneaks a peek. “Definitely,” she says. I move my hands from my jittery knees to the arms of the chair and squeeze, hoping they’re right.

  Dr. Lawrence snaps her fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you: Channing called. He made it to Colorado last night, and with any luck, he’ll find them today.” Dr. Lawrence hired a private investigator who found Channing’s family in the mountains outside of Denver.

  I breathe, happy he’s finally getting the chance to be reunited with his family. “That’s good news,” I say, though I can’t help but worry.

  “Either way, I asked him to call tonight.” She gives me a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  Amy shakes the candy box before popping another pastel heart in her mouth. Dr. Lawrence turns to my sister. “What did that one say?” Amy shrugs in response, and Dr. Lawrence wrinkles her nose. “You’re supposed to read them to me first, remember?” Dr. Lawrence is trying to help us all catch up with reading and writing and math, so we can start school next fall. It’s not much time, but Dr. Lawrence is confident we can do it. I am, too.

  My sister giggles and, with her mouth half full, mumbles, “You’re supposed to eat candy, not read it.”

  Dr. Lawrence smiles and nods at me. “Well, I guess I can’t really argue with that.”

  The hairstylist turns off the hair dryer and sets it behind me. She fluffs my hair with her hands and then shields my face as she sprays my hair.

  The smell of hairspray reminds me of Mother. Of Meryl. Of the women in our community, spraying their fanciest braids and waves, high above their foreheads. I miss them all more than I ever thought I would.

  “You ready
to take a look?” the stylist asks.

  I swallow hard and nod. Cutting my hair seemed like a good idea—another way to become the new me. Now, I’m not so sure.

  She spins the chair, and I spot my reflection looking back at me. At least, I think it’s me.

  The hair I’ve been growing my entire life—the hair that stretched far below my waist—now barely touches my shoulders. My lip quivers. I press my lips together, feeling the tears sting the backs of my eyes. The hair Mother braided so many times is gone. I don’t think she’d even recognize me now.

  “Oh no,” the stylist says, worry lining her voice. She hands me a tissue. “Maybe we should’ve cut only a little this time.”

  I wipe my nose. “It’s fine. It’s just—”

  Dr. Lawrence stands behind me and touches my shoulder reassuringly. “It will take some getting used to, but I like it.”

  “I think it looks pretty,” Amy adds.

  I let out a relieved laugh. “You do?”

  My sister nods.

  “Thank you,” I say and blot the corners of my eyes before reexamining my reflection. “Me too.”

  The stylist gives me a wink. “With that haircut, you’re going to be a real heartbreaker at school.”

  She looks at me in the mirror, as if expecting a response. But I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say. I shift, uncomfortable as she removes the cape from my neck. It sounded like an insult, but her tone made it sound like a compliment. Just another one of those confusing things here on the outside.

  Tanner says I should ask when I’m not sure. “Heartbreaker,” I repeat. “Is that a good thing?”

  “Oh yeah,” the stylist says, shaking the cape. I take one final look in the mirror and nod.

  We soon step outside to a brisk, sunny morning in Santa Fe. The familiar Sangre de Cristo Mountains stand watch in the distance. Someone’s burning piñon wood in a chiminea on a restaurant patio nearby.

  I breathe in the comforting smell as we walk a few doors down the adobe strip mall to meet Tanner and Kel at the coffee shop. A bell jingles as we walk through the door. Wearing T-shirts and jeans, they both grin when they see us.

  They look so different now. Especially Kel. He’s grown taller, but more than anything, he’s more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. “Whoa,” he says.

  Tanner nods, shaking his hand midair. “Look at you two.”

  Amy spins, showing off her new haircut. People around us stare. I shrink inside my red hoodie.

  Tanner laughs at my reaction. “Ready to go?” he asks, tossing a paper cup into a trash bin.

  “Where are we going?” I ask Dr. Lawrence.

  She adjusts the purse strap on her shoulder. “I need to talk to the private investigator that helped us find Channing’s family. I’m going to see if he’s gotten any more leads on where your father might be staying.” She shakes her head. “Of course, only if that’s still what you want me to do?”

  I glance at Tanner, who shrugs. He’s still angry with Father. And then at Kel and Amy, who both nod. I quickly nod, too. It’s time we start trying to bridge that gap.

  Dr. Lawrence checks her phone and then suddenly looks up. I can tell she’s trying to suppress a smile. “While Kel and I are doing that, Tanner has devised a little errand he wants to run with you.”

  “What is it?” My gaze darts to her phone, but the screen is already dark.

  They all shift around me, acting suspicious. Amy doesn’t even try to hide her grin. “We have a surprise for you.”

  Kel shushes her.

  “Don’t tell her,” Tanner says.

  Her jaw goes firm, defiant. “I wasn’t going to.”

  I can’t help but smile. I forgot how much I missed their bickering.

  “You better get going,” Dr. Lawrence says and pushes open the coffee shop’s door. The bell jingles, returning us to the scent of burning piñon wood.

  I rub my hands together before Amy and I pile into Tanner’s rusted orange truck. Once in the driver’s seat, my brother rolls down his window.

  Dr. Lawrence smiles. “Be back by dinner?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tanner says.

  Kel stands behind Dr. Lawrence. “Have fun,” he says.

  “Oh, we will.” Tanner gives them a wink and rolls up the window. They both back away from the truck and wave good-bye as we pull out of the parking lot. The engine roars as we take off.

  I nudge Amy, whispering under the noise, “Where are we going?”

  “Forget it,” Tanner says. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  I sigh heavily. Why can’t they tell me?

  Amy and Tanner look at each other and grin.

  We’re soon heading south, outside of Santa Fe. My whole body begins to relax as we drive through the hills of rural New Mexico. I run my fingers through my new haircut as we zoom beneath the expansive blue sky, past the red earth covered with the scrub and sage bushes I associate with home.

  The radio blasts unfamiliar songs—one after the other—but Amy bobs and hums with each one like she’s known them forever. Tanner taps the steering wheel with the beat. The longer we drive, the songs start to repeat, and I’m sometimes able to join them on the chorus.

  After a while, Tanner exits the highway, and we’re back in city traffic. This time, it’s Albuquerque. My neck tightens with the noise and congestion. “What are we doing here?”

  “You’ll see,” Amy says as Tanner navigates the busy streets. We pass gas stations and restaurants. Offices and shops.

  Horns honk. Motors hum. Until my brother maneuvers into the left lane and turns into the parking lot of a two-story reddish-beige building.

  My skin tingles as Tanner cuts the engine and jumps from the truck. Amy excitedly pushes me to open the door.

  I hop from the truck and look up at the brick and glass and metal building. My heart quickens. A giant decorative metal cutout of a violin clings to the side of the building next to a sign: ROBERTSON AND SONS.

  My eyes flash to Tanner. He holds open the door. “Coming?”

  With a hurried breath, I enter the two-story lobby with Amy and Tanner on my heels. It smells of wood and rosin and musty paper.

  Violin cases line one of the tables to our right. A man in a black apron plays, while another man looks on. A few feet away, a girl plucks the strings on a cello. A woman, who appears to be her mother, nods with approval.

  At the end of the carpeted room, a bearded man with white hair and a friendly face greets us. He shakes Tanner’s hand. “This must be Gentry,” he says, smiling at me.

  Tanner points. “And this is my other sister, Amy.”

  The man claps his hands together. “Well, let’s get started.”

  I want to ask him with what. But, by now, I know they won’t answer even if I ask.

  We follow the white-haired man down a long hallway and stop at a door. “Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all,” he says as he turns to leave. “I’ll be in my office.”

  Tanner opens the door to a large room. There’s a stage up front. Black chairs in rows fill the room. It reminds me of our meetinghouse in Watchful.

  Up onstage, a girl plays a chestnut-colored violin. She has black hair with blue tips and wears sparkly pink tennis shoes. A woman sits in one of the chairs, listening. I don’t know who the girl is, but she can play. I mean, she can really play. The sound is so rich, I feel like I could cry.

  Then, I notice the golden-haired dog at her feet with the red bandanna around his neck. The dog’s head pops up from the stage as he seems to notice us, too. He barks; it echoes to the ceiling and back. The girl stops playing and glances over in our direction.

  My cheeks flush with embarrassment until she smiles.

  “Talia?” I say.

  “Gentry!” she squeals and lowers the violin and bow onto the table before running toward me. She slams into me with a hug.

  I’m grinning from ear to ear.

  When we separate, she nods. “Love the new look.”<
br />
  I point to her blue-tipped hair. “You too.”

  Rockstar licks Amy’s hand. She laughs and pets his shaggy head. Tanner backs away, looking a little wary, and I laugh. “He won’t hurt you,” I say, and Talia nods with a smile.

  I can’t believe she’s here. That we’re all here. “What are you doing here?”

  Talia wiggles with excitement. “Mom, you tell her.”

  Only then do I notice Talia’s mom approaching. She must’ve been the one listening before. She smiles softly. “It’s good to see you again, Gentry. Tanner told us about everything you’ve been through. I’m so sorry.”

  The back of my neck goes hot.

  Talia nudges her mom. “Way to make it awkward, Mom.”

  “Um, well,” Talia’s mom says before clearing her throat. “I’ve been talking to the festival people. We’ve been collecting money for a worthy cause for almost a year now.”

  Talia rolls her eyes, looking impatient. “Will you just tell her already?” She shakes her head. “Never mind, I’ll do it.” She points to the stage. “I’ve pulled some violins for you to try. If you don’t like these, we can pick some more.”

  My pulse stutters as my gaze jumps to the table on the stage, lined with violins in a range of hues—honey to deep brown. Is she saying what I think she’s saying?

  Tanner smiles. “Told you she’d like it.”

  I try to catch my breath. “I can play?”

  “You can do a whole lot more than that,” Talia says. “When you find one or two you like, you can take them home. Try them out for a while. When you figure out which one you want, the festival will buy it for you.”

  “On one condition,” Talia’s mom says, raising a finger.

  Talia gives her mom another look. “I was getting to that.” She turns to me. “You have to play in the Santa Fe Youth Symphony and agree to take weekly lessons—and play in next summer’s festival.” Talia cocks her head as she looks at her mother. “That’s more than one condition.” She shrugs. “Of course, you’ll be doing it all with me. If that’s okay.”

  I can hardly believe my ears.