The Glass Wall (Return of the Ancients Book 1)

by Madison Adler

  “He’s awfully cute.” Betty teased with an overly exaggerated sigh and placed her hand theatrically over her heart. “If I was younger…”

  “Mom!” Grace looked horrified.

  Betty laughed. “Good job, girls,” she said as she made her way into the kitchen to put a bag of popcorn in the microwave. “Sydney, run outside and tell Al it’s time to watch Glee.”

  I found Al still waxing his truck. In fact, he was still waxing the same spot. He’d donned a battalion cap and had it pulled low over his face. It made it even more obvious that he was watching the neighbors across the street.

  “Betty says it’s time for Glee,” I said, wondering what power she had over this burly army man to make him sit and watch an hour of warbling teenagers on TV.

  Al jumped a little.

  I’d apparently startled him.

  “Glee?” he repeated. He glanced across the street, appearing genuinely torn.

  “I can finish here,” I offered. I hated Glee and didn’t want to be roped into watching it. I’d much rather wax the truck.

  Al brightened visibly. Leaning closer, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “Just pretend to wax while you gather intel,” he said in a conspiratorial tone. “Take note of who comes in and out and let me know if anyone new shows up. We might be dealing with drugs here.”

  Drugs? I stared at him. Intel? I’d just meant I’d wax the truck.

  He nodded. “You’ll be safe. They won’t dare do anything in this neighborhood, not with the crime watch program that I run. And besides, you have Tigger here as protection.”

  I looked around, confused.

  He pointed.

  Tigger, it turned out, was a red-brindled bloodhound snoozing with his head under the rear truck wheel. It wasn’t an encouraging sign of his intelligence.

  “Yeah,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as sarcastic as I felt.

  “Wear this,” he said, dropping his hat on my head. “They won’t be able to see your eyes that way. They’ll never know you’re watching.” And with that he scurried into the house, a spring in his step.

  I shook my head, wondering a little about these people, but decided it didn’t matter. It was my last year of school and my last year of foster care.

  It was also my last yo-yo year with Maya.

  There are tons of horror stories of the foster care system, but I’d never experienced one. The families that had hosted me over the years were guilty of only one crime: they were boring. Even those who had discovered my shoplifting habit had just reacted with speeches, made me go to counseling, or signed me up for community service. Nope, I’d never been abused or even yelled at.

  I sighed.

  It was all ending and soon I’d no longer be an actor in Maya’s Drama of Life.

  She had played the same tragedy for years.

  Act One: My mother and her boyfriend du jour would fight, he’d leave, she’d turn to alcohol to numb the pain, enter rehab, and I’d be escorted to a new foster care family.

  Act Two: After rehab, Maya would fight to get me back, succeed, and then we would have a few good months after moving to a different state for a fresh start.

  Act Three: She’d look in the mirror, convince herself she was getting old and find another man, any man. Voila! It was time for Act One all over again.

  I tried hard to convince Maya that she didn’t need a man to make herself ‘complete’ (I’ve watched more than my share of Oprah), but she didn’t believe me.

  She insisted I couldn’t understand because I’d never been in love.

  I don’t believe she ever had either, because I don’t think love is sitting your kid in front of the TV while you try to change yourself into whatever the man sitting at the kitchen table wants you to be.

  Over the years, I’d witnessed Maya transform herself into many things: a blonde motorcycle chick, a headbanging black-haired Goth, an eco-friendly-no-makeup-allowed hippie, and even a UFO cult fanatic.

  I liked the motorcycle chick phase the most. I loved riding the bikes, hanging on for dear life, with the wind whipping through my hair. I never wore a helmet and she didn’t care as long as the cops didn’t see.

  A loud snarl jolted me from my thoughts, and I found myself face to face with a Doberman. It was as if he’d jumped straight out of a scary movie with his long pointed ears, a bobbed tail, and lips drawn back in a sneer that revealed rows of perfectly white—and very sharp—teeth.

  I froze.

  He growled.

  “Ajax!”

  The Doberman shut his mouth and began to wag his two-inch stub of a tail as if he’d been trying to befriend me the entire time.

  “Sorry about that,” the blond stranger apologized as he entered my field of vision. “He really is very friendly.”

  The new neighbor was even more devilishly handsome up close.

  He was younger than I’d thought, probably in his early twenties. Tall and slender, he moved with an easy grace and a commanding air of self-confidence. He wore expensive clothes that made him look like a model or even a movie star. He removed his sunglasses, revealing gray eyes rimmed with a heavy dose of black eyeliner. Somehow, it looked good on him.

  I became aware of an awkward pause. I didn’t know what to say. I’d just obviously given him the once over.

  Blushing, I grunted, “Ok.” I blushed more. Ok wasn’t exactly a witty thing to say.

  I was rattled, but then, he was probably used to girls acting silly in front of him.

  “My name is Rafael,” he introduced himself. “Ajax just wanted to meet your dog.”

  I glanced at Tigger.

  He was still asleep with his head under the rear tire, oblivious to the Doberman sniffing his hindquarters.

  “That’s Tigger,” I said. “He isn’t my dog.”

  Rafael nodded, but looked faintly confused.

  “I’m Sydney,” I explained, feeling a little stupid. He probably couldn’t care less that Tigger wasn’t mine. “I just got here myself a couple of hours ago. Tigger belongs to the Mackenzies … my foster parents.” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder at the neon blue house.

  “Ah!” Rafael smiled. “Then, we are both new here.”

  He was strikingly handsome when he smiled.

  The sun sparkled a little off his cheek, catching my attention. I squinted curiously. If I didn’t know better, I could have sworn he was wearing glitter on his face.

  “Rafael!” A blond-haired girl called as she ran across the street to join us.

  She seemed about my age, but our similarities ended there. She was stunning, slim, and sophisticated. She wore a dark tank top with expensive brown leather boots, heavy black eyeliner around her blue eyes, and she had a dusting of glitter across her nose.

  “My sister Harmony,” Rafael said, looping a brotherly arm about her shoulder.

  Harmony blinked and sent him a curious look, but she smiled at me warmly enough. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  I eyed them both. They were remarkably alike, even down to the eye makeup and glitter. I couldn’t resist asking, “Are you twins?”

  Harmony laughed. It was a silver tinkle of a laugh. “Heavens bells, no! Rafael is just a baby. I have to look after him!”

  It was Rafael’s turn to send her an odd look before turning back to me. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you. I do believe it’s almost time for tea.”

  “Tea?” I found myself repeating before I could stop.

  “Ah, yes, would you care for some?” Harmony asked with an inviting smile. “Rafael does like his tea, white tea with a hint of jasmine.”

  “No, I’m good,” I said. Maybe Al was right and they were speaking in some kind of drug code. “I … don’t do tea,” I added, just in case.

  I watched them walk back to their house and pretended to wax the truck for a few minutes before giving up and going inside.

  Al and Betty sat on the couch in the family room, sharing a bowl of popcorn.

  “I could sing it better than th
at,” Al was saying.

  “Of course, honey,” Betty said and looked up as I entered. Raising her hand, she mouthed the words “Wait for a commercial.”

  I did.

  When someone began to shout about a mattress sale, I handed Al his hat.

  “They came over and introduced themselves and left,” I said.

  “Really?” Al perked up.

  “Rafael and his sister Harmony—” I began.

  “Rafael?” Grace interrupted, appearing behind me. She continued in a dreamy tone, “His name is Rafael? Do you think he has a girlfriend?”

  “Well, it was a good thing Tigger was there to protect you.” Al nodded firmly.

  I snorted but quickly converted it into a cough.

  “Did they say anything else?” Al asked.

  “Just that they like tea, white tea, with a hint of jasmine,” I answered, watching Al frown as he processed this information. I didn’t think it was a drug reference. He’d obviously never heard of tea used as a code word before either.

  “Tea,” he murmured, tapping his chin.

  “White tea is very healthy,” Betty chimed in. “Oh, look, commercials are over.”

  Immediately, they both fell silent and began to watch TV, simultaneously dipping their hands into the bowl of popcorn.

  Grace had long since disappeared.

  Knowing I wasn’t going to watch Glee and not knowing what else to do, I went to my room.

  Chapter Two - A Weird Coincidence or Two

  I woke up with the sun in my eyes and squinted at the clock.

  It was almost noon.

  Surprised that Betty let me sleep in so late, I hurriedly fed Jerry and got ready. Before I left, I kissed him on the nose and promised that I’d take him outside to get some fresh air later.

  “Good afternoon!” Betty called out cheerfully as I entered the living room. “Sleep well? Help yourself to some cereal before we go shopping. School starts tomorrow for you, you know.”

  I knew that. It was already several months into the school year.

  I helped myself to some cereal and looked through the kitchen window.

  Grace and Al were waxing the truck again, so I leaned forward to peer across the street. As I expected, Rafael was in his front yard. He was speaking to the little old lady next door, who was standing amidst her collection of lawn ornaments.

  Something cold touched my knee and I yelped, almost dropping my breakfast.

  It was Tigger’s wet nose.

  The hound dog stared at my generic cornflakes with his droopy eyes.

  “Don’t feed him, honey,” Betty said, coming into the kitchen. “He has a heart condition. He’s on a diet.”

  Looking at the rolls of fat on his stomach, I felt like telling her it wasn’t working, but decided against it. I wasn’t sure she’d appreciate the comment.

  It wasn’t long before Betty grabbed her purse and escorted me outside.

  Rafael had disappeared and Al was across the street speaking to the Lawn Ornament Lady. She was wearing a purple housecoat and her eyeglasses looked like coke bottles. Spying us, he wrapped up his conversation with her and walked back to our house as she waved and disappeared into hers.

  “Mrs. Patton says they’re from Norway,” he told us as he marched up the driveway, “or maybe South Africa.”

  “Ah, that makes sense,” Betty nodded.

  I frowned. It made no sense at all. “You girls have fun,” Al said as he opened the truck door for his wife. “I’ve got to get the equipment ready.”

  Grace decided to stay home, leaving me alone with Betty. I supposed this meant I’d hear the “Rules Of The House” speech and settled back in the truck seat, waiting for it to start.

  Instead, Betty flipped on the radio.

  A song by my new favorite singer Jareth began to play.

  “Ah, you like Jareth?” Betty smiled, somehow sensing my interest.

  I nodded.

  “Grace likes him too. He’s coming to Seattle next March,” she said. “I’ll see if we can get tickets.”

  In spite of myself, I smiled a little, but I didn’t get too excited. I’d heard many promises in my life. Few had ever materialized.

  To my surprise, Betty didn’t give me any speeches the entire day. Instead, she drove me to a big department store and bought me a pile of jeans, sweaters, socks, and underwear. I even got a new pair of shoes and a basket of school supplies.

  When her back was turned, I shoplifted some hamster food for Jerry and stuffed it into my bag. I was tempted to take one of the hamster wheels as well, but it was too big and I didn’t want to risk getting caught.

  I experienced the usual twinge of conscience, but I brushed it away.

  After all, the universe owed me and if the universe didn’t owe me, the government certainly did. I wasn’t quite sure how, but I figured it tied in there somehow. Besides, big companies expect to lose a certain percentage of their merchandise to theft. I read that they even write it off their taxes, so they don’t really lose out. I never took anything from the smaller stores, from the places struggling to survive.

  “Sydney?” Betty’s voice broke into my thoughts.

  I jerked, a little guiltily.

  “Are you alright, honey?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I snapped. I sent her a dark glare as a warning not to pry further.

  She just smiled.

  I clutched the hamster food in my bag tightly.

  We were driving along another lake, ringed by large evergreens and hills. There were hordes of bikers everywhere I looked. They were all dressed in tight, form-fitting outfits with matching helmets.

  “I thought you might like to see your school,” Betty was saying as she drove up a long incline. “Sister Ann had to cancel our appointment today, but you can meet her tomorrow.”

  “Sister?” I repeated, puzzled.

  “We got you a scholarship to Grace’s school,” she said, obviously excited on my behalf. “You’ll be going to Issaquah Catholic. It’s a private high school.”

  It sounded expensive.

  The closest I’d ever come to a private school was in the movies. The stories about them are always the same: The awkward heroine is picked on by the mean, popular girl until she transforms into the most gorgeous of them all. She’s always crowned Prom Queen after winning the heart of the mean girl’s boyfriend. And there’s always a quirky best friend too.

  I shook my head, collecting my scattered thoughts.

  Betty drove around a bend and pointed.

  Issaquah Catholic was a large, modern brick building perched above a circular driveway. Towering evergreens ringed both the campus buildings and a large sports field, which looked brand new. From the truck, I could see a bridge that led from the driveway to the school. There were metallic, inspirational words embedded in the cement at the entrance. You had to step over them to get to school. I wondered what they said.

  I swallowed. I’d definitely not fit in here. These kids were probably a lot smarter than I was. I was destined to fail.

  “I don’t want to go to a private school,” I grumbled ungratefully.

  “Give it a chance,” she replied, smiling.

  I was quiet during the ride home and Betty, thankfully, just listened to the radio.

  It wasn’t long before we were lugging our shopping bags into the kitchen to find Al sitting at the table, singing softly under his breath. He was poking through a pile of black wires, night vision goggles, and something that looked like a mini satellite dish.

  Unable to resist, I migrated closer to the table for a look.

  “This is a portable bionic ear,” Al said, noting my interest. He picked up the mini dish and demonstrated its usage by holding it up in one hand and putting on a pair of headphones. “You can hear someone talking up to 50 yards away with this thing!”

  He handed it to me and I turned it over curiously.

  “Betty, have you seen my signs?” he called.

  “Bottom drawer, honey,�
� Betty smiled and patted him fondly on the head.

  “Here they are!” he chuckled after searching a few minutes. Returning, he dropped a few black and red plastic signs on top of the table.

  I picked one up and read aloud, “Warning: All Activities Are Recorded To Aid In The Prosecution Of Any Crime Committed Against This Facility.”

  The last words “Against This Facility” had been crossed out.

  “I only run legal operations,” he explained earnestly, indicating the pile on the table, “and my gut tells me we are up against something big here.”

  Al nodded across the street with his chin.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  He picked up a staple gun and gave me a curt nod. “Why don’t you give me a hand, Sydney, and bring the signs.”

  I followed him out to the front yard. He stood in the driveway, pursing his lips as he surveyed his property. After a few minutes, he walked to a row of evergreens close to the street and dropped on his knees. Pulling himself forward on his elbows, he wriggled under the branches.

  I heard his muffled voice. “Give me a sign, kiddo.”

  A hand appeared from under the branches. The fingers wiggled. I dropped a sign into them. It disappeared. I heard the click of the staple gun and then Al reappeared, brushing the leaves off his shoulders.

  “One posted,” he said with a nod of satisfaction. “I’ve got the perfect spot for the next one.”

  I watched as he stapled the next sign to the underside of the mailbox. I cleared my throat and said, “No one can see these.”

  “Can’t tip them off,” he explained as he posted the last one behind the trash cans at the side of the house.

  I shook my head and followed him back.

  “I’m going to have to order a few things,” he told his wife as he walked in.

  She nodded thoughtfully and then her expression brightened. “I’ve got a 20%-off coupon. Maybe we can use it!” Taking his hand, she led him into the living room where the computer lived amidst the mountains of her Ebay boxes.

  With their attention locked onto the computer, I wandered away. Grace was in her room listening to music, so I decided now was a good time to give Jerry some exercise.