The Boy Who Couldn't Fly Straight: A Gay Teen Coming of Age Paranormal Adventure about Witches, Murder, and Gay Teen Love (Book 1, The Broom Closet Stories)

by Jeff Jacobson

  “What? No, no, it’s yours. I didn’t, uh, I didn’t have anything to do with it. I never even saved any of it. I … what?”

  “Take it easy, buddy. We’re not trying to scare you. I know everything is brand new and strange. We didn’t want to just drop all of this on you at once. But you’ve talked about money and getting a job a couple of times, as well as paying us back. We just want you to know that there is plenty for all of us, for your aunt and me, for your mother if she would like it, for you too. For your schooling, for a computer, for your food and clothes, for a car when you’re ready to drive.

  “It’s not like we’re going to give it all to you and tell you to go crazy, Charlie.” Randall laughed. “That wouldn’t be very responsible of us. It sounds like your mother has done a wonderful job instilling in you the value of saving money. That’s great.

  “We just want you to know that for right now, you can relax a little. You’re taken care of. We can only imagine how much is on your mind. A new place to live, a new school, all the things we talked about the other day with your mother and your aunt. All that witch stuff. We want you to have one less thing to worry about.”

  Charlie looked back and forth from his uncle to his aunt, then down at his hands. The three helpings of beef and the extra dessert sat like a lump in his stomach. Even though he liked how they seemed to respect him enough to talk to him like a person instead of a little kid, he didn’t know how he felt about what they said. It just seemed too weird. His mother had a lot of money? And he did too? How could that be true?

  “Did we tell you too much, Charlie?” asked his aunt.

  “Um, I guess not. Well, you said it was my money too. But not really, right? I mean, not to sound disrespectful, but,” he said, then paused. What was he trying to say?

  That he didn’t believe them? No, that wasn’t it. As strange as all this sounded, it was more believable than some of the other weird stuff he had had to swallow in the past few days. That they were going to give him a crazy allowance or something? No, it was just that …

  “But that money really isn’t mine until you two, and my mom … until I’m the only one still alive, right?”

  “You mean as an inheritance?” asked Randall. “Technically, yes. Or at least not until you’re eighteen years old. But we don’t think about it that way. That pool of money is for all four of us. Right now. And someday it’ll just be for you, when we’re gone.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Carson Park

  CHARLIE WALKED DOWN WASHINGTON Street on his way to his second day of school. It was a bright sunny morning, though he could feel a cooler layer of air beneath the warmth of the day. His uncle had told him they never knew how long summer would last in Seattle. Sometimes it could go until late September, and other times it ended right about now, not even mid-month and the weather would turn cold, gray, and rainy.

  “And then that’s what we’re stuck with for about eight to ten months,” he had said with an odd mixture of annoyance and affection in his voice, as if Seattle weather were a fussy yet lovable infant.

  A fresh-faced woman in a light blue T-shirt and shorts who appeared to be in her early twenties was jogging toward him, the white cord of her earbuds shining in the sun. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she smiled at him as she passed by. He turned around, not sure if he was supposed to know who she was. She winked at him, then kept moving.

  He wondered if he found her attractive. She was obviously older than him, but not by too much. She seemed to have a great body and a really pretty face.

  “Yeah, I think I could find her attractive,” he said. This made him feel happy. And a little hopeful too.

  People were outside watering their lawns and hanging flowerpots. He still wasn’t used to a neighborhood like this, with houses so close together, with sidewalks and people who greeted him as he walked by. His home back in California sat alone at the end of a lane. The nearest house was about two miles away. He loved to walk around on their acreage or cross the state highway nearby and go up into the hills. It was seldom that he ever saw anyone else near the house unless it was in a car driving by.

  Here, every moment seemed to bring with it so much new information. Last night he had learned that his aunt and uncle, his mother and he, were rich. Or had a lot of money. He didn’t even know how to think about it other than that it was weird. He should feel relieved, right? I mean, isn’t that what everybody wanted? More money? He didn’t know what to do with the news except add it to the growing pile of things that were now supposed to be true about him: having a family in Seattle and a mother who was a witch who had hidden him from bad people by lying about her background; going to a prep school and learning Chinese; having lots of money.

  His head spun with it all. He wanted some things to be normal. Or regular. Or even better. If everything could slow down a little bit, he would feel like he could catch his breath. He found himself wondering what his mother was doing right now. The raspberries along the south side of the house still needed to be picked. Maybe she was making jam with them. Or maybe … but the now familiar mixture of pain and confusion pounded into his heart when he tried to picture what she was doing, making it difficult to think; he pushed the thoughts out of his mind and instead looked at his surroundings.

  To his right he saw the Olympic Mountains, far beyond Puget Sound, snow still capping their peaks this late in the season. Did his aunt and uncle like to hike? Maybe they could all go camping up there one day and look around.

  One thing that hadn’t changed was his desire to explore his surroundings. Whenever he had finished his chores back in Clarkston, he would spent as much time as he could wandering the rolling hills near his house. He liked to be alone in nature. This was only his second time walking the eight or so blocks to school and back. Maybe he would take off after class today and go around the neighborhood. Beverly had said there was a nature preserve down the street from them.

  Then a thought brought him up short:

  Is it safe to be by myself in nature? Is it safe to be by myself anywhere? Will something try to get me?

  An image of a four-legged creature, teeth sharp, maw wide, smelling of wood and fur, flashed through his mind.

  He shuddered as panic arose, marring his previously calm contemplative walk to school. Then he remembered Beverly, looking out the window in her bathrobe, saying, “I use my muscles. They are very strong.”

  And just like that, the panic subsided a little.

  Maybe there was nothing to worry about?

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts, then glanced at his watch and saw that he only had fifteen minutes before the first bell rang. He hurried his steps and crossed Admiral Way (“At the crosswalk, please,” his aunt had said. “It’s a busy street.”), then switched over to Forty-Sixth Avenue. Soon he saw cars pulling up to the curb, dropping kids off in front of Puget Academy. Yesterday he overheard a boy in one of his classes say that he lived on a nearby island and had to take the ferryboat every day to cross over Puget Sound to get to P.A. Charlie couldn’t imagine taking a boat to school.

  “Well, you couldn’t imagine being a rich witch living in Seattle either, and here you are doing it,” he muttered to himself.

  “Charlie!” he heard someone yell his name. He glanced up and saw Loreen, the girl from his Chinese class, waving at him. He took a deep breath, put on a smile, and headed into his second day of school.

  * * *

  As he walked home later that day, he found himself yawning and debated whether or not he should go for a hike. His homework load had grown in two days, and he finally understood why all the teachers had talked to him about keeping his head above water. If things kept going the way they were, he would soon be drowning in homework.

  Even though he still had trouble finding each of his classes and he couldn’t remember all of his teachers’ names, everything had been more familiar today than yesterday. That was a relief.

  As he approached Beverly a
nd Randall’s place, he looked up at the house. He couldn’t believe how big and beautiful it was. Two full stories, a sweeping deck at the back with a full view of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains beyond, a large flower garden on the north side of the house and an even bigger one, filled with herbs and late summer vegetables, in the back. Most of the houses in the street were big, but Beverly and Randall’s house seemed to be almost twice the size of its neighbors. True, no one had four acres out here like they had had in Clarkston, but the lots seemed pretty spacious for a city.

  He walked up to the front porch and unlocked the door with his own key.

  “Hi, Charlie,” his aunt called from somewhere in the house. “Hey, look, I’m glad you’re home. I was just about to write you a note. I have to go to a meeting. Help yourself to snacks in the fridge, okay?” She rounded the doorway from the kitchen, slipping her purse over her shoulder. She was dressed in cream-colored pants and matching jacket.

  “I’m running a little late. You okay to be here by yourself?”

  “Oh sure. Yeah.”

  “Great. I thought I’d take you out to dinner tonight if you’d like. There’s a new Japanese restaurant in the Junction that I’ve wanted to try. How would that be?” she said as she grabbed her keys from the small table in the foyer.

  “Fine. Yeah.” He had never had Japanese food before nor did he know what the Junction was. “Um, I thought I’d go explore that nature preserve you told me about and maybe take Amos with me. Is that cool?”

  “What? Oh sure. He would love it. His leash is in the coat closet. Just walk to Admiral, take a right and follow it down about four or five blocks. It’s called Carson Park, and it’s on the left-hand side of the road.”

  She opened the front door, and then looked over her shoulder. “I should be back around six thirty or seven, okay? Eat anything you want, but don’t spoil your appetite for dinner tonight, all right? See you!” And with that, she smiled and closed the door.

  He stood in the foyer, listening as the engine of her Volvo started up. He heard her back down the driveway.

  And then there was silence. It was the first time he had been in the house alone. He was surprised how quiet it was. And how relieved he felt. As much as he liked his aunt and uncle, he wasn’t used to talking to people so much. The quiet felt thick, like sunlight, like sinking into bed after a full day of picking fruit in the orchards. He set his backpack down on the floor and stood there, letting the light from the window above the door warm the top of his head.

  Thinking about picking fruit made him think about his mother. Thinking about his mother reminded him that he had a new cell phone. He pulled it out of his backpack and looked at it.

  Maybe I should call her. See how she’s doing. See if she’s okay.

  Was she safe back home by herself? If she had let her witchcraft weaken over the years, how could she protect herself if something happened?

  The more he thought about it, the less scared and the more frustrated he grew.

  “She left me,” he said out loud. “She should call to see how I am!”

  He put his phone back in his backpack, trying to convince himself that he was doing the right thing.

  Fifteen minutes later, after dropping his stuff off in his room and changing out of his school uniform, Charlie ate some chicken and an apple, then grabbed his house keys. He opened the coat closet and removed Amos’s leash. Before he could call out, he heard the click-click-click of the dog’s nails as he ran along the wooden floor from the dining room to the front door. Charlie smiled. It looked like he wasn’t the only one who wanted to get out and explore today.

  * * *

  Carson Park was less of a big square lawn, like the one in the center of Clarkston, and more a series of small hiking trails that ran from the entrance at Admiral Way into a very dense canopy of trees. Charlie saw that there were a few cars parked along the street near the main gate as he and Amos walked in, but there weren’t many people actually hiking today.

  Maybe Fridays are quieter around here, he wondered.

  The landscape was completely different from anything he was used to in California. In Clarkston at this time of year, everything was brown and dried. There were large oak trees, fields of grass baked hard from the relentless summer sun, and the dusty smells of sage and pine.

  Here, everything was green. Even this late in summer. There were huge leafy ferns bordering the sides of the road. He couldn’t identify most of the trees. Many of them were covered in moss.

  At times Amos pulled on the end of his leash, rushing ahead and whining as if he wanted to race up and down the trails. At other times the big dog would stop short to smell bushes and ferns along the side of the dirt trail. Charlie realized that if he didn’t keep them moving at a steady pace, they would never get anywhere.

  Lost in the green wonder of it all, with no real thought in his head, Charlie was surprised as the narrow path, lined with thick berry bushes and fuzzy ground cover, curved to the right and opened up into a wide paved road. The air cooled noticeably, and he could smell salt water nearby.

  Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He stopped. Amos ceased yanking on his leash and sat still near Charlie’s feet, a low rumble coming from his belly.

  Up ahead, a bend in the road ran off to the left. A large dog came into view from around the bend. Its teeth were bared. It was growling.

  Charlie stopped breathing. Fear chilled him as it flew like an ice storm up his legs and into his chest.

  The dog’s fur was pale, almost white, and it looked out of place as it walked straight at them, head down, tail held high.

  Amos’s growl grew louder. He rose up from his sitting position and stood on all fours, then stepped in front of Charlie.

  Charlie didn’t know what to do. The dog looked like it might attack them. He tried to remember what you were supposed to do in the event of an animal attack, but his mind was blank.

  A rustling sound in the bushes to his left caught his attention.

  Out of nowhere, an elderly woman, dressed in shorts and a polar fleece vest and carrying a large walking stick, stepped out onto the path just in front of Charlie and Amos.

  “Hello there, young man,” she said to him, before turning to face the dog.

  “No! Be careful. There’s …” Charlie tried to warn her.

  But the woman paid him no heed. Instead she took a few steps forward and banged the butt of her walking stick on the paved road three times.

  “Shoo! Go on! We don’t want your kind here.”

  The approaching dog stopped about twenty feet from them. It continued growling but moved no closer.

  The woman took several more steps forward. She was now less than ten feet from the dog.

  “Go on! Leave! Now!” She raised the stick above her head.

  The dog made a short yelping noise, turned on its heels and ran, tail tucked between its legs, until it disappeared around the bend in the road. Charlie caught the faint whiff of something wet and woodsy, as if it had been raining in the forest.

  The woman turned back to him.

  “Th-th-thank you,” Charlie stuttered.

  “My pleasure, young man. My pleasure,” she said as she walked back toward him, her voice warm and calm, as if she had just shooed a deer from her strawberry patch. “We should all be able to roam freely in these woods without that riffraff trying to ruin a perfectly good day.”

  She was much older than Charlie had thought. Wrinkles covered her entire brown face, pulling at her mouth and gathering near the corners of her eyes, where she was smiling.

  “Okay, time to be off. Enjoy yourself in these woods today. You’ll have no more trouble,” she said, then pushed past him and walked back through the thick foliage. He watched until he could see her no more. It was as if the berry bushes on either side of the path swallowed her up.

  * * *

  That night in bed, his stomach full of interesting and weird food with names like uni and nori and tsu
nomono, Charlie thought about the dog in the woods. It had seemed very angry, like it was going to attack. He thought again about the German shepherd in his kitchen, with the same mean muzzle. Was that dog in the woods today one of the bad guys?

  He felt stupid calling the dog a “bad guy,” but he didn’t have any other words for it. He had tried to ask Beverly and Randall more about who these “bad guys” were, but his aunt had told him that more would be explained later. He had wanted to insist, to glean as much information as he could, but her tone of voice told him that he would get no more from her on the subject.

  If it had been one of those bad guys, then why had it come after him?

  Who was that old woman who had come out of nowhere and scared the dog away? Was she a witch?

  Why hadn’t he told Beverly about the dog? Probably because he figured she wouldn’t tell him anything about it anyway. Was that the only reason? He wasn’t sure.

  He fell asleep and didn’t stir until the sun shining in his face woke him up the next morning.

  Since it was a Saturday and he didn’t have to go to school, his Aunt Beverly took him shopping downtown for more clothes. He found himself less and less shy around her. She had a relaxed attitude about most things, and unlike his mother or any other grown-up he had ever known, talked to him like he was a person who had opinions about things. Like he was an adult.

  She asked him what kind of clothes he liked. He wasn’t really sure. She took him to several different stores, giving him her opinion now and then and also asking the salespeople what they thought.

  “You know, you’re very handsome, Charlie,” his aunt said to him once as he walked out of one of the many dressing rooms of the day, this time with a new dress shirt on. “That shirt shows off your hazel eyes nicely. And I think the salesgirl would agree with me,” she added, nodding out to the floor where the girl had gone to see if they had pants in Charlie’s size.