There was a unified gasp in the room.
"What does critical mean?" A boy at the back of the room asked.
"It means serious," Rosie answered.
"Yes. Rosie's right," Mrs. Hall affirmed. "Paul and his family could really use our prayers, so I would encourage each of you to say a special prayer for him. Okay?"
"Okay," the children responded simultaneously.
"Can we pray for him now?" Harry shouted out.
Mrs. Hall scanned the room, noticing the sad faces. "That's very nice of you, Harry. What we can do is have a few moments of silence and those of you who would like to can say a special prayer for Paul. I will too."
The class offered a full minute of silence to Paul's cause in hopes that the child would survive his dreadful injuries.
Twenty minutes later, someone showed up at the classroom. It was one of Mrs. Hall's colleagues.
"Excuse me, kids." Mrs. Hall got up and headed to the doorway.
"I bet you're glad about what happened to Paul," Nicole said to Rosie in an accusatory manner.
Cara immediately looked at her and Harry was observing from the back.
"You don't know how I feel," Rosie retorted. "You don't know me at all."
"Paul might not be here, Rosie shmosie, but nothing's changed."
Cara shifted her attention to the five-foot tall bookcase that stood at the front of the room, a few feet away from Mrs. Hall's desk.
A thick hard-cover book on cursive techniques vibrated on the shelf, then gradually slid out of its allotted spot, extending itself in mid-air. Watching it intensely, Cara did not as much as blink. With lightning speed and perfect aim, the book shot across the room, slamming against Nicole's forehead.
She was knocked backwards against her chair and children around her were petrified at the sight of the large bump that had instantly protruded from her forehead and the blood squirting out of it.
Oblivious to what had occurred, but seeing the blood streaming down her face, Nicole released an ear-piercing scream which jolted Mrs. Hall from the door.
"Oh my goodness!" The teacher exclaimed. "What happened? What on earth happened?"
Some of the children were shaking their heads.
The colleague Mrs. Hall had been speaking with was right behind her.
"Let's get her to the nurse!" He said, lifting the girl from her desk and carrying her in his arms. Blood spotted the floor as the man transported her out of the room. Nicole was crying inconsolably more out of fear than pain.
"What happened?" Mrs. Hall pressed.
"We don't know," a little girl replied.
"I saw a book hit her in the head," Harry said.
"Who hit her with the book?"
"No one. It just seemed to have come out of nowhere," he returned.
"Nonsense! Someone had to do it," Hall charged. "Books don't have legs and can't move on their own. I'm going to the nurse's office to check on Nicole and this class had better have answers for me when I get back! The truth!"
Mrs. Hall stormed out of the room and raced down the hallway toward the nurse's station. A teacher's aide from next door waited with Rosie's class until their teacher returned.
Rosie and Cara looked at each other. Rosie's expression was one of worry, while Cara's was one of glee.
"Why are you smiling?" Rosie whispered.
Cara only shrugged.
"Looks like she's badly hurt."
Cara did not appear concerned.
Harry was looking on with raised eyebrows. "Who are you talkin' to?" He cried.
On turning and glancing at him, Rosie saw that he was referring to her.
The teacher's aide looked up from Mrs. Hall's desk. "Please be quiet," she said.
"But she's talkin' to herself!" Harry snorted. "She's freakin' crazy!"
Rosie was mortified. She could not believe he was speaking so loudly and embarrassing her like that.
"I said to be quiet!" The lady stood up and glared at Harry.
"I don't have to listen to you. You're only a teacher's aide. My parents make way more money than you!" Harry was defiant.
"That's it! Go and stand in the corner. Now!" She pointed.
Harry took a good ten seconds before even bothering to get up, then it seemed like another full minute before he arrived at the corner of the room. On passing, he scoffed at Rosie. "You're freakin' crazy," he said coolly.
Rosie sat quietly, glancing at Cara who was lightly tapping a pencil on the desk.
Harry was made to put his hands on top of his head. "This is kindergarten stuff." He chuckled.
Several children were laughing at him as he stood there with beige pants that were sagging over his flat behind.
* * *
Rosie had Mira and Sara's full attention at the dinner table as she re-counted the events of her day.
"Two kids getting hurt one right after the other is really something. So sad," Sara remarked.
"Did the little girl ever return to class or was she taken home?" Mira asked.
"She went home. Her parents came for her," Rosie indicated.
"Thing is… both of them were very mean to me and even though I never wanted anything bad to happen to them, I wasn't really sad when it did. I was only a little sad. Does that make me a bad person?"
Sara quickly reached across the table and patted Rosie's hand.
"No, it doesn’t make you a bad person, pumpkin. It makes you human. You couldn't be bad if you tried. You're too sweet a person to be that way."
"Mom's right," Mira added. "You were still hurt by the way they treated you and that's why you felt that way. Doesn't mean you didn't care. We understand that."
"I really hope they'll be all right," Rosie said earnestly.
"I know. I hope so too," Mira replied.
Sara smiled as she looked at her granddaughter.
"I forgot to mention something," Rosie said minutes later. "This boy named Harry said aloud that I was talking to myself in class and that I was crazy, but I didn't know what he was talking about. I felt so ashamed."
Mira's chewing of her salad slowed. "Were you talking to someone just before he said that?" she asked. Sara glanced her way.
"Cara. I was talking to Cara."
"Cara? You mean the little girl you met at Bobby's place. His neighbor?"
"Uh huh." Rosie swallowed a spoonful of mashed potatoes.
"What was she doing at your school?" Mira probed.
"She goes there now."
"Since when? She wasn't there when you started, right?"
"No. Her first day was today. She told me yesterday that she'd be starting there today."
Sara was looking at Mira, imagining what was sailing through her mind.
"I'd like to meet Cara's parents," Mira indicated.
Rosie looked at her mother suspiciously. "Why?"
"Well, she's your new friend and it's important for me as your mother to get to know who her parents are. Didn't I meet the parents of all your friends at your other school?"
Rosie nodded.
"Excuse me?" Mira gazed at her.
"Yes, ma'am," Rosie responded softly.
"After you've finished eating and washed your hands, we can head over to Bobby's place."
"Okay!" Rosie replied, taking the last spoonful of her mashed potatoes.
7
_________________
After giving Bobby a quick hail, Rosie immediately ran around the house to the back yard. She found Cara waiting there for her.
Mira went inside the house with Bobby.
"Can I offer you something to drink before we get started?" Bobby asked Mira.
He still felt butterflies in his stomach every time he set eyes on her and wanted so badly to tell her how he felt. He was convinced, nonetheless, that she already knew.
"No, thanks. I'm fine. What do you have here?" She went over to a box full of photographs.
Bobby moved in closer. "Just some old family photos." He spoke softly, almost temptingly.
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Mira placed a bit more distance between them. "Um, I guess we can go through these and see where you'd like to put what. Some we can hang on the walls and others on the center table and side tables. We can save one or two for your nightstand or bureau. How's that?" She looked his way for a brief second; his stare ever so intense."
"Uh, yeah." Bobby glided his hand across the nape of his neck. "Sounds cool to me."
Mira pulled out the pictures one by one, carefully handling them as many were old and the frames not so sturdy. "Bobby, I meant to ask you something," she started a few minutes later.
"Yeah?" She had his attention each time she parted her lips; this time was no exception.
"Your neighbors…what type of people are they? I know you've just moved here, but what do you make of them?"
"They seem pretty nice. I've spoken with the husband a couple of times, but have seen the wife just once. They come across as pretty decent people."
"Okay."
"There's this strange thing that happened yesterday though," Bobby continued.
Mira now offered him her full attention. "Uh huh?"
"When I stopped home for lunch, I heard a lot of commotion next door like someone was in there trashing the place. Knocked on the door, called out, then went around the house - saw nothing and no one answered, but things were clashing all over the place. I got a hold of Mister Straptopulus, told him what was going on, but he seemed kind of nonchalant about what I was describing to him. It was odd."
"Yeah, that is odd," Mira agreed.
"Well, he confirmed that his wife wasn't home and when I offered to call the cops, he talked me out of it. Said he'd be right home to check things out himself."
Mira listened intently.
"When I saw him later, he acted kind of weird, saying that maybe I thought I heard all this when I know without a shadow of a doubt that I did."
There was a brief pause in the room.
"What about their little girl?" Mira soon asked.
"What little girl? They don't have any kids."
Mira walked over to the kitchen and looked outside the window. "Yes, they do. She's out there in the yard playing with Rosie right now."
Bobby looked outside. "What're you talking about? Rosie's out there alone," he said.
Mira shook her head. "No, she's not. They're building sand-castles together."
Bobby saw Rosie in the little sand pit in his back yard. She was making a sand castle and speaking to what he thought might be an imaginary friend.
"Mira, I don't mean to sound like a dummy, but look straight ahead. There's no one out there except Rosie."
"I think it's time I went over and introduced myself." Mira rested a picture frame on the counter and went out the back door. Bobby stood in the doorway watching as she went over to where Rosie was playing.
"Hi there." Mira was addressing the little girl.
"Mom, this is my friend Cara," Rosie said.
Mira smiled as she looked at the shy child. "My name is Mira. It's very nice to meet you, Cara."
Bobby silently observed as Mira was speaking to someone or something he could not see.
"Are your parents at home, Cara?" Mira asked.
Cara shook her head and looked away.
"Well, I'll see you later, Cara. It was very nice meeting you." She turned to Rosie. "Will let you know when it's time for us to leave, honey."
"Okay, Mom!" Rosie replied. "Cara, let me fix that one for you!" She offered as her mother walked away.
Mira walked past Bobby, picked up the picture frame she had left on the counter and resumed what she was doing.
"What was that about?" Bobby followed her into the living room.
"You have a neighbor out there that you haven't met. She's cute, seems adorable, healthy-looking, but dead."
Bobby's eyes widened. "Dead?"
"Yep. The couple - your neighbors hadn't mentioned they had a daughter?"
"No. They didn't mention it."
Bobby knew that Mira was special. Sara had told him all about it a few years earlier when Mira was living abroad. Sara filled him in on the events that took place when Mira was thirteen years old — the story of Karlen Key and Cornelius — the tragedy. Bobby was also aware of Mira's reluctance to commit to a romantic relationship because of what she was exposed to at such a young age.
"Just because we can't see some things, Bobby, doesn't mean they aren't there," Mira said.
"I see what you mean," he answered reluctantly.
"No, you don't see. That's my point."
After leaving Bobby's house, Mira had switched on the radio to listen to a popular talk show.
"I'm glad you met Cara," Rosie said from the back seat. She was in a chipper mood.
Mira glanced through the rear-view mirror. "I'm glad I did too."
"I thought you were going to meet her parents today. Why didn't you?"
"I don't know. I guess I thought I'd do so another time."
"Will you be my mommy?" Mira heard an unfamiliar voice coming from the back seat.
She looked in the direction of where she had heard it. Cara was sitting to Rosie's right.
Mira almost lost control of the car and swerved to the side of the road. She glanced through the rear-view mirror and saw Rosie sitting quietly, then she shifted the mirror to Rosie's right and saw Cara again.
"Cara, what are you doing here?" Mira asked, surprised that the child she had met a short time earlier would be riding along with them.
"Will you be my mommy?" the girl repeated.
"Honey, you already have a mother. You're with her and your dad every day; aren't you?"
"They don't want me around. They don't love me," Cara replied angrily. Rosie looked on.
"I'm sure they do, honey."
"They don't!" Cara roared.
Simultaneously, the radio's volume blared to the max. Mira quickly reached over and lowered it again. "Okay! Okay!"
"You have to be my mommy and Rosie my sister." Cara was calm again. "I like Rosie and she likes me. Right, Rosie?" She looked her way.
Rosie, now somewhat afraid, quickly nodded in agreement.
"I don't want to upset you," Mira said. "But why would you want a new family when you already have a family?"
"The porridge was sweet," Cara replied.
Mira noticed the radio knob turning slowly to the right as the volume increased to where she initially had it. Seconds later, Cara disappeared.
Mira looked at Rosie. "Are you all right, honey?" she asked.
Rosie appeared a bit shaken by Cara's outburst, but she nodded that she was fine.
After arriving home, Mira asked Rosie: "How much has Cara told you about herself?"
"Nothing, mom. She doesn't talk much. I was surprised she said all that to you."
"She mentioned that the porridge was sweet. I wonder what she meant."
Rosie's expression offered no explanation.
"Why would she want me to be her mother?"
"Maybe because you're nice," Rosie replied.
"I think there's more to it." Mira rested her purse on the sofa. Rosie proceeded to her grandmother's room as Mira sat alone in the living room deep in thought.
* * *
Eleven-year-old Harry Pettler had just exited the ice cream parlor with his parents. Walking down the sidewalk, the chocolate ice cream dripped down the sides of the waffle cone and Harry busied himself sucking up the melted goodness before it got away from him. A young man riding a bicycle and wearing headphones had just turned the bend onto the same sidewalk. He was heading in the direction of Harry and his parents, but apart from the three who sauntered along the pavement, the coast was clear. The rider was on the inside area near store-fronts and Harry and his folks were walking on the southern end of the sidewalk.
Cara sat on a bench across the street looking on. As the bicycle approached, the faster the pedal moved and the more frightened was its passenger. The handlebar veered toward the left and the young man knew he was
in deep trouble. He was no longer in control of his bicycle.
"Get out of the way!" He shouted, but his warning seemed muffled; neither Harry nor his parents could hear him. And at full speed, he found himself in the pathway of the little boy. He tried to stop the bike — even attempted to jump off of it, but his hands were stuck like glue to the handlebars. With the look of terror on his face, he sped right through the family knocking Harry off his legs and tumbling onto the side of the road. The Pettlers had both landed on the sidewalk and watched in sheer horror as an oncoming Hummer with its panicked driver swung to the right in the nick of time to avoid crushing their boy like a tin can. The bicycle had long come to an abrupt stop and its rider had been tossed off, but amazingly suffered no injuries — not even a scratch. He ran over to Harry who was now being helped out of the road by his frantic parents.
"What the hell were you doing?" Lou Pettler yelled at the man who had crashed into them. "You could've killed our son!"
"I… I don't know what happened. I lost control of my bike and couldn't get it to shift," he tried to explain.
In tears and excruciating pain, Harry was clutching his left arm with the other. It seemed to have been dislocated. His mother tried to hold it steady as much as she could.
Harry was battered and bruised, and the rip in the leg of his pants revealed a long, bloody gash that had been inflicted by one of the bicycle pedals.
"I called Emergency Services already," a woman who was among a group of onlookers assured the Pettlers.
"Thank you," Diane Pettler replied. "We're all just lucky to be alive, especially our son." She looked up at the young man with disdain who had caused all that trouble for them.
"I'm really sorry," he said. "I hope he'll be all right. I'll come with you to the hospital."
Cara was now there on the pavement with them, observing the hugely-gratifying scene before her.
"You're lucky I didn't kill you, you stupid boy! That'll teach you to mess with my family." She said casually.
Harry, in sheer agony, had not even noticed her nor heard a word she had uttered.
Cara started down the sidewalk whistling as she went along.
The Cornelius Saga Series (All 15 Books): The Ultimate Adventure-packed Supernatural Thriller Collection Page 20
