The Answers Are In The Forest Page 2

  I shrugged. “Nothing, really.”

  “Wanna come bowling with some friends and me?”

  “Bowling, really?” I asked. When I thought bowling, nothing cool or fun came to mind.

  Picking up on my vibe, she said, “Yes, really. It’s kinda where everybody hangs out. On the weekends they have, like, bands play and stuff.” Seeing live music was one of my favorite things in the world, but I had a sneaky suspicion that whatever music they had at the bowling alley would greatly fail even the lowest of expectations. My brother always called me a music snob.

  “Why?” I asked. It seemed too easy, instant friend. Usually didn’t happen like that. It never did for me, at least. People had told me once or twice—or maybe many times—that they picked up on the standoffish vibe that supposedly radiated from me.

  “There’s nowhere else to hang out.”

  “I didn’t mean that. Why are you inviting me?” I asked with a shrug.

  Olive smiled. “I think we’d get along.”

  “All right.”

  “Cool, you need a ride?” Olive asked, waving to a couple of guys who were hanging out near a water fountain.

  “Where is it?”

  “Up near the Pack and Stuff grocery store.”

  “Then, no. That’s actually not too far from my house.”

  “Okay, see you tonight, then.”

  I waved, and Olive walked into the crowd. I didn’t expect to make any friends on my first day—or any at all, for that matter. After my craptastic year with getting kicked off the track team and getting arrested and not having my brother around anymore, maybe it’d be nice to have someone to talk to.

  Chapter Three

  The bowling alley smelled like a combination of feet, rubber, and hotdogs. Music played loudly, and the sound of the balls striking the pins rang out. I scanned the place, looking for Olive. Carpet with large outlined stars lay before me. It was sprinkled with bits of paper and popcorn and crumbled nacho chips. Out at the end of the lanes, the wall was decorated with almost the same stars as the carpet. The place was crowded with a whole assortment of people—seniors with fluffy, lilac hair, some moms in tracksuits, some middle-school-aged looking kids dancing at one of the arcade games, a bunch of drunk twenty-somethings. And then I spotted Olive with a motley crew of piercings, torn jeans, band tees, and combat boots.

  “You get shoes over there,” Olive said, pointing across the way to where, standing behind the counter, was a guy I recognized. He was the kid outside my house on the bike from the previous night.

  “Hey, who’s that guy? I think he lives near me.” I glanced in said guy’s direction.

  “White dude or Asian dude?” Olive asked.

  “I’ve seen him,” I said, staring.

  Olive followed my gaze. “Filipino dude, then. Bunny Boy.”

  “Bunny Boy?”

  “Yeah, that’s kinda what he’s known as now.”

  “Why in the hell is he called that?” I asked, standing in close to Olive while trying not to stare too much at the subject of our conversation. He was ringing somebody up at the counter and nodded at whatever the customer was saying to him.

  “I didn’t come up with the name,” Olive said, placing her fingertips on her chest. “I know it’s not right to call people names, but teenagers are cruel beings by nature, and somebody came up with the name after his brother got abducted.”

  “Really?”

  Olive grabbed my wrist and pulled me over to where all her friends sat. She turned her back toward Bunny Boy and spoke quietly. “Yeah, it was around this time last school year. His brother—his identical twin, actually—went missing for a few days, and when they found him, he was barely conscious, almost dead, on somebody’s front lawn mumbling about rabbits. Somebody beat the living daylights out of him. But he kept saying stuff like ‘the rabbits say we need to help the children’ and all this weird crap. Like the rabbits told him. Those were the quotes they printed in the newspaper, and, of course, rumors about the rest.”

  “Oh my god, really?” It sounded a little unreal, like something from a movie.

  “Yeah, really weird stuff. It all can’t be verified, because like I said, rumors, but it seems Bunny Boy was trying to figure out why his brother was talking about rabbits, so he started asking people at school if they knew anything about them, and, well, he’ll never live it down.”

  One of Olive’s friends caught wind of our conversation. A tall white guy with chin-length hair and cuffed jeans that just grazed the tops of his canvas high tops walked over with his arms crossed. “You talking about Bunny Boy?” he whispered.

  “Yeah, Ryan. This is Gabby. Gabby, Ryan,” Olive said, giving intros.

  “His brother might be, like, an accomplice to a murder too,” Ryan said with a nod. He uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “What?” It was weird, but creepy and sad all at the same time.

  “Said he saw a dead kid. And when they found him, Creed, his brother, had blood on him, but it wasn’t his and could never be identified. And besides the dead kid, he doesn’t remember anything. Supposedly doesn’t even remember talking about the rabbits. Doctors said it was because he sustained a brain injury. Somebody clobbered him over the head good,” Ryan said.

  A thin girl with warm brown skin and springy curls walked over, giving Olive a kiss on the cheek. “Ru…it’s Ru, Rusck, that’s his actual name,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Rusck Almeida. God, yeah, geesh, and he’s kept to himself since then.”

  “Rusck?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I was actually in first grade or second grade with him, can’t remember which, but anyway, he used to tell everybody that when you say his name, it was like Ru, as in kangaroo.”

  “That’s kinda cute.”

  “Yeah, it was. Lots of kids used to call him KangaRusck.” She laughed to herself at the memory. “A lot has changed since then.”

  “Does he go to our school?”

  Ryan nodded. “Yeah, I got a class with him this year. He just sits there with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.”

  I nodded. “Okay, good to know, I guess. He’s a scowler.”

  The girl stuck out her hand. “I’m Sarah, by the way. Olive is not good with the introductions.”

  “My girlfriend,” Olive said, wrapping her arm around Sarah’s waist.

  “Sweet. I’m Gabby,” I said, giving Sarah’s hand a shake. “I like your sweater.” She wore a cardigan over a shirt with a Peter Pan collar and tall black combat boots.

  “Thanks,” Sarah said with a smile.

  “I have to go and get my shoes, still. Now I don’t want to go over there for fear I might stare.”

  Olive gave me a playful shove in the shoulder. “I’m sure he’s pretty used to people staring. The whole town knows the story. Somehow, it seems so much more tragic to people because Creed was the school’s quarterback.”

  “God forbid something happens to the golden boy,” Sarah said.

  “Don’t be a jerk,” Ryan snapped, flicking her in the cheek.

  “Dick, you’re just mad because you were in love with him, and he didn’t love you back,” Sarah said, flicking Ryan back.

  I walked across the bowling alley to get my shoes. Standing in front of the counter, I scratched the tip of my nose.

  “Shoes,” Bunny Boy said.

  “Uh, yeah,” I said, making note to think of him as Rusck. Just because everyone else were jerks and called him Bunny Boy didn’t mean I had to.

  “Size?” he asked, looking at me like he had a million other things he could be doing.

  “Seven.”

  He turned to go get my shoes, and I drummed my fingers as I waited. He came back after a few seconds, dropping the shoes on the counter. “Three dollars,” he told me.

  I fished around in my jeans pocket and pulled out some crumpled bills. As I flattened and counted out my money, I noticed that Rusck was kind of cute—well, really cute, actually. He was taller, with a
nice, lean build, and had thick black hair that fell in his face. Long lashes that curled framed his dark brown eyes. His lips pursed with his eyebrows drawn down as he waited for my money. He certainly did scowl.

  I paid, took my shoes, and walked back over to Olive and her friends, but then turned on my heel and went back over to the counter. Rusck pretended he didn’t notice me. He flipped through a stack of papers.

  “Do you live near me?” I asked.

  “No,” he answered, not looking up.

  “Why were you outside my house?”

  He shrugged and glanced at me. “None of your business, really.” He paused and bit his lip. “I was just riding around.”

  I nodded. He went back to pretending he was busy.

  ***

  After we dropped off Sarah, Olive pulled her car into my driveway, which was actually just a gravel strip. She insisted on giving me a ride home. My bike stuck out of her car trunk.

  Olive turned and looked at me with her mouth partially ajar. “You live here?” she asked, pointing out the window with her thumb.

  “Uh, yeah, why else would I tell you to pull in here?” I said.

  “Jesus fricking Christ,” Olive muttered, shaking her head.

  “Yes, I’m fully aware the house I live in is a dump,” I said, almost offended.

  “No, it’s not that. This is the front lawn where they found Bunny Boy’s brother.”

  Goosebumps crawled up my arms. I swallowed a lump that tried to rise in my throat.

  “An old man used to live here at one time, but they don’t know if the old man did something because most people said they hadn’t seen him in years, but Creed couldn’t remember anything about his abductor, anyway. Some sick freak from anywhere could’ve dragged him here.”

  “The old guy could’ve been the landlord’s dad. All he ever said to my mom was that the house used to belong to his dad. I knew my house was creepy.”

  “Yeah, supposedly, he lay on the lawn right there, blood oozing from a wound on his head, all busted up, broken arms, cracked ribs, cuts, bruises, his brain swelled like a balloon, and mumbling about rabbits, his eyes barely open.” Olive pointed over to the center of the lawn left of the walkway.

  “Thanks for telling me. Geesh, and my mom works at night.”

  “Uh, sorry. You want me to come in with you?”

  “No, I’ll probably survive.”

  Olive gave a nervous giggle. “Sure?”

  I honestly wasn’t sure, but I said, “Yeah, I’m sure,” anyway.

  I got out of the car, grabbed my bike, and waved as Olive drove off. Hesitantly, I let myself into the house. It was pitch black and eerily quiet. I flipped on the light and turned on the TV. White noise hissed back at me. Curse not having an antenna. I went to my room, switched into my jammies, and grabbed my backpack so I could do my homework. The rest of the evening was spent sitting on the living room floor, leaning up against one of our lawn chairs, trying to focus on doing my homework and not thinking about how I lived in a house that might’ve contributed to a horrible event for some poor local kid. As I focused on my homework, I started to get sleepy, so I lay on my stomach and tried to do my homework that way.

  ***

  My eyes flew open. I was still on the living room floor, and it was still dark. I tried to close my eyes and drift back to sleep, but once again I heard what it was that had initially woken me. In the distance, the light laughter of a little girl rang out. A cool breeze swept through the room, the sweet giggling riding in on it. Gasping, I scooted on my butt into a corner. The light was off, but the TV was still on. “Okay, okay,” I said to myself. “It was the TV.” Maybe I got reception for a moment. I scrambled on my hands and knees, grabbing for the remote, turning the TV off. A shiver ran down my spine, and ever so faintly, I heard the laughter again. It seemed to have come from a floor vent, drifting up from the basement. Oh dear god, I hoped no one was in the house.

  Breathing heavily, I stood, unplugged a table lamp, grasping it in my hand, and took it with me as I headed for the basement door. For some reason, it was what my mind thought of as a weapon in case I had to protect myself. And for some reason, I didn’t listen to my gut and run out the front door. Instead, I opened the basement door and started to descend the creaky wooden steps that led into the black, inky pit of a basement. If I was in a horror movie, I was so destined to die.

  I ran my hand over the wall next to the stairs but couldn’t find a switch, so I continued my descent in the dark. A glow from the basement provided me with a bit of light as I neared the bottom landing. When I fully made my way down there, the moon shone through a small rectangular window, illuminating the objects in the basement, making it look like large, misshapen monsters waited for me all around. Reaching out, I touched one, just some boxes or something with a sheet over it. I slowly walked forward. My body shivered, and I was pretty sure if I exhaled, I’d see my breath hanging in the air. The basement smelled like soil. When I got close enough to the window, I squinted and shook my head. Right beneath it in the moonlight was a pile of toys.

  “Ep op, ep op, coo coo,” one toy said to me.

  I screamed, jumping in the air, almost colliding with the ceiling. After some seconds without breathing, my heart settled, and I squatted in front of the toys.

  “Ep op, ep op, coo coo,” the toy said again. Its eyes mechanically blinked at me. I picked up the toy. A Burbimal, I thought it was called. My brother had one when he was little and passed it down to me. The one Gerald gave me was blue and fluffy. The one that spoke to me was gray with dirt and had spots. It was faded on one side, like it had sat in that spot forever with the sun shining on it. Its little chicken-looking beak opened and closed. I grabbed the Burbimal, flipped it over, and turned it off then checked out the other toys. There was a half-naked, plastic baby doll missing an arm, a severely old-looking windup tin car, a pink pony with hearts on its butt and a tail missing, a large doll-like army guy, and a paddle ball with the string still attached but no ball.

  I hadn’t the faintest idea where the toys came from. Must’ve belonged to whoever lived there before us, but the strange thing was how they were arranged in a pile on the floor. But one thing sent a tingle down my spine. How in the hell did the Burbimal turn on? I stood back up, and my brain started working again and realized what I was doing. I was suddenly scared to death. I ran across the basement and back up the steps, right to my room, where I barricaded the door with my set of plastic drawers and jumped into the corner of my bed, pulling my blanket up to my chin.

  Chapter Four

  A ringing woke me up. It took me a few seconds to realize it was my phone. I uncurled from the ball I fell asleep in, crawled out from under my covers, and got up to search for my phone. It was still in my jeans pocket from the night before.

  “Hello,” I said, my voice still scratchy with sleep.

  “Gabby,” a voice cried. It took me second to realize it was my brother.

  “Oh my god, Gerald,” I said. I was so happy to hear his voice. Nights like the one before made me miss him more than anything in the world. When I was little and got scared, he used to let me sleep with him, and when I got older, he’d always be there to listen.

  “Hey, Gabby Wabby, I wanted to catch you before you left for school.” He had called me that since before I could remember, and after years of asking him to stop, I just gave up. I was Gabby Wabby.

  “How are you, Gerald? I miss you so much.”

  “I’m all right. I only have a minute, here. Just wanted to call real quick and say hi, so…hi. How are you doing in the middle of nowhere?”

  “I’m so happy you caught me. It’s okay here, I guess. Be much better if you were here, though.”

  “Hey, before you know it.”

  “God, I can’t wait.”

  “You okay?” Gerald asked with concern in his voice.

  “Yeah, I’m good. I just woke up.”

  “Yeah, you were never very good at waking up. I gotta go, though. J
ust checking in real quick. Love you.”

  “Love you too. Call again soon.”

  “Will do.”

  I threw my phone behind me on the bed and lay down on my side. I loved when Gerald called, but afterward I always felt kind of down, overwhelmed by guilt. He was in jail, and I was not.

  We were out being stupid as we usually were. We were coming out of the grocery store, and it might sound corny, but looking for trouble. There was this car running, and it seemed to have been just waiting for us. I pointed it out to Gerald, and when the owner took a step to the side to put away her cart, we slipped in. The spot in front of her was empty, so Gerald drove straight forward and ripped out of the parking lot. Apparently, grand theft auto was one thing, but if you were going to take somebody’s car for a joyride, check the back seat first. The woman’s kid was quietly sitting back there strapped into his car seat, so add attempted kidnapping on top of that.

  Gerald convinced the judge I had nothing to do with it, and my record was nothing compared to his. All I had were a couple of warnings, where his record was riddled with actual arrests, so he went to prison, and I got probation. I had guilt because I felt I should’ve been sent away too. He had guilt because he said he was the reason I was troubled. Troubled, that was what people called me, so we were just a guilt-ridden, messed up family.

  I sighed, and after a bit, finally got out of bed and ready for school.

  ***

  Creed was still on my mind, and those toys, and Gerald, as always, so I decided when I got home that some fresh air would do my head some good. I locked the front door and ran around to the back of the house. With running shoes on my feet, some shorts—which I wore when I ran as far into the season as I could before it got too cold—with my legs that resembled frozen, uncooked chicken sticking out of them, and a zip-up jacket, I jogged across the back yard, pulling open the gate and starting off into the woods.

  The woods were actually pretty bright. Probably because everything was charred, and nothing ever grew back. I used to always run in the woods before I moved. Granted, there was a running path, so I figured why not the skeleton forest? I stretched a bit once I got a few feet into the crunchy goodness of the forest floor and then took off. I started with a short stride to warm up, leaping over fallen limbs, rocks, and other crusty woodland debris. The brisk fall air filled my lungs, energizing me. Picking up my pace, I lengthened my stride. All was quiet except for my feet hitting the ground, snapping twigs, and crunching unidentifiable forest floor mash-up. The tips of my ears began to hurt, and my thighs started to tingle. Perhaps I should’ve put on some running pants, but I was too far into my run to go back and change. I cleared my mind and focused on breathing, leaping over whatever was necessary. I was totally in the zone, so when I found myself suddenly falling, I was quite taken by surprise.