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Every night I would receive a letter from my father. And every letter would describe another journey. Each letter would always end the same way. “ Follow the stars Heather. Follow the star that shines the brightest.” My father was Arnold Cromwell, an archeologist. My mother was Amelia Cromwell, a marine biologists. My name is Heather. Your average high school drop out, and the one of last living one in my family.
I just turned fourteen not longer than a month ago on April 23rd. Like every birthday before, I would spend it sitting in my room, reading previous letters addressed from my father. His handwriting was chicken scratch, and barely understandable. His latest letter was dated three days ago on May 6th, 2010. It told me of an adventure in Egypt and how they had just made it out of The Great Sphinx alive. They were no where close to their destination, but they were farther then they were last time. He wrote about a scarab beetle that was hidden somewhere deep within the tomb. The scarab beetle was said to be a worshiped item in ancient Egypt Mythology. I stopped reading. This letter reminded me of Emma and Zachary. My two older twins who passed away not to long ago right after mother. They followed father’s footsteps in archeology and had great dreams for the future. Emma was nineteen. I can still remember her heart shaped face with her long coco colored hair and eyes. I loved how she would help me with my homework and pick out my clothes for the following day. Zachary had blonde hair and green eyes, so they weren’t identical twins. He was also nineteen and had many admirers. He would help me with sports. Like basketball and tennis. All which I am a pro at thanks to him. My mother helped me with cooking, even when I was a little girl. I would always help her put the food in the oven and take it back out. I remember her chubby face and her black eyes and grey hair that was once blonde. Her hugs were the best part of my life. Always keeping me warm and making me feel safe. That was the last letter I had received from my father. I had a feeling he was gone from this world. The world was dull and grey to me now. No color was in my life. Just an empty abyss. Cold, hungry, lonely, and distant from the other students. It just became to much for me to handle, so, I dropped out. Some one would come over and give me my class work and home work so I would pass this grade, but, no one has come in the last few days. I wonder why.
I sat at the table, watching the news on the small television rested on the counter. It said we were going to have a thunder storm and that it would cover the whole east coast. I turned it off and grinned at the family photo the was in a wooden frame right next to it. Everyone was smiling. I remember that day. It was Emma’s seventieth birthday, and the same day I was flung into the deep end of the pool and nearly drowned to death. Zachary dove in after me. He was a good brother, although it was him who flung me in. Even though I was two at the time I believe. Emma had to leave her friends to console me and make me stop crying. Emma’s grip was so tight I though she would break me in half. Then when Zachary hugged us both, I thought I stopped breathing. We had good times together. We got along better than mother and father did, who were constantly fighting. Zachary would make us both laugh, Emma and I, by flexing his biceps in weird poses and make funny faces to go with them. He was always a good brother, like Emma was a good sister. They always stood up for me, and almost never made me cry. Almost. One time, Zachary had to punch me in the jaw because I kept talking, well, more like cursing, at him. I understood why. On the outside, was this tough guy with stones for abs, but inside him was a sensitive, gentle kid who just wanted to be loved. It hurt like getting one hundred needles in the mouth. I didn’t talk to him for a week after that. But, I had to speak to him. I guess you can say I have a soft spot for the silent treatment.
I walked around the house aimlessly for about five minutes. The sky outside was a dark grey. The storm was on its way. I closed all the windows that were open, and sealed my doors. The news said something about strong wind and lightning, so I better be prepared if the lights go out. I gathered all of the flashlights, candles, matched, and batteries and set them down on my bed. I wonder where Marley was and if he was brining my work for today. Marley was my vice principle. He wasn’t as nice to other students as he was to me. He was a friend of my mother’s actually. We even made up a secret knock that he does every time he dropped off my homework. It went a little something like tap, tap, bang, tap, bang, bang. That’s how I knew it was him or not. If it wasn’t well, lets just say I better not have my father’s rifle in my reach. My father taught me how to shoot because I would go on some of his journeys and if a snake came up to us and start attacking us, I can kill it. He never liked killing animals, but only if he had to. I don’t like it either. It breaks my heart to see a life end, when it may be alive to accomplish something extraordinary. Marley was an old man with white hair and green eyes. He was hunch backed, but a fast runner. His voice was muffled, but over time, I got used to it. He was in most of my family photos when my father wasn’t. He was like a second father to me, Zachary, and Emma. They didn’t like him though. They though the was strange and complained that he smelled like gym socks. I knew he worked out, but they didn’t get the point of the stench that sweat leaves behind. Oh well. Where was he?!
Thunder roared, scaring me half to death. I tip-toed down the stairs, trying not to disturb the silence and stillness in the house. I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a bowl of coco puffs. We had no more milk in the house. I’d have to wait until the storm eases up a bit before running out and getting more. Marley gave me half of his paycheck. Which I was thankful for because it was fifty bucks each Saturday. I wrapped my blanket over my shoulders and sat in front of the window, looking for Marley. He was never late before. I wonder if anything bad has occurred to him. He was a smoker, I prayed to God that he wasn’t sick, or even worse. I shook the thought out of my head and shifted so my cheek was pressed up against the window. My breath fogged up the glass, making it difficult to see. My eyes were nearly closed when something woke me. It was a light tapping coming from the kitchen door. It went like tap, tap, tap, tap. I stood up, pulling the blanket over me some more. Marley? Is it you? I walked down the stairs and got my father’s rifle. It wasn’t our secret handshake, so just to be safe. I loaded the gun and hid next to the door. The tapping repeated itself. I grasped the door knob, my heart pounding faster and faster. I flung the door open and some one ran in, closing the door behind them. I got my rifle ready.
“ Who are you?!” I screamed, pointing the rifle at his head. The shimmer in his light blue eyes gave me a hint that he was frightened. He was breathing heavily and he was sweaty. Which gave me the idea that he was running for a long period of time. His mouth was open to speak, but no words came out. Only a small grunt as he slumped down the door. I flicked on the lights to see a streak of blood running down the door. His black spiky hair was drenched with sweat along with his jeans and t-shirt. His sneakers were worn out, almost falling apart actually. I put the rifle down, looking at him. His side was cut open badly. Blood was everywhere. It reminded me of a time when Zachary got into a fight with his friend Randy Kelson. Randy pulled a knife on him and cut him badly. He was rushed to the hospital where he died the same night. It was heartbreaking to see him go, but it was a relief as well. He was in severe pain after the fight. He looked calm when he died. I snapped out of the memory and put one of his arms over my shoulder and dragged him to my room. I moved the flashlights, batteries, matches and candles onto the ground and placed him there. I lifted up his shirt to look at his wound. It wasn’t as bad as Zachary’s but it was still bad. I grabbed some paper towels off of my dresser, knocking down and breaking a statue of a ballerina that was given to me by my mother before she died. But right now, all that mattered was saving this boy’s life. I put some towels on his cut wound and pressed on it hard. He winced at the pain, but still didn’t wake up. I ran across the hall into my parent’s old room. I dug through my mom’s dresser, pulling out a roll of bandages. I darted across the hall once more and wrapped the bandages around his side. I undressed him of his shirt, pants and sneakers. Then pulled my blanket over him. His clothes were drenched, so I threw them in the washing machine. That boy would be alright now if he just rested. I washed his blood off of my hands. I made a promise to Zachary that I wouldn’t let another human life go. And I vow to keep that promise. I pulled my jacket over my body and flicked on the television. There wasn’t really anything good on so I watched sponge bob. It was the episode when Patrick and Spongebob found the magic pencil. I turned off the television and yawned. I glanced at the clock. Midnight exactly. I heard the toilet flush from upstairs and a loud grunt. I heard him walk down the stairs, and fall on the last four. I stood up, stretching. I heard his low but heavy breathing.
“ Where are my clothes?” He asked, getting up and walking towards me.
“ They’re in the wash. And don’t move around to much. The bandages will come loose.” He looked at his bandages. He was pale. I couldn’t tell if it was his natural skin tone or if he lost too much blood. His eyes were black, and his hair draped over one of his eyes. He flipped it back over his ear.
“ Thanks I guess.” He looked at the rifle resting up against the doorway. He backed away a little bit.
“ Don’t worry. I won’t shoot you unless you piss me off enough.” His eyes widened as he nodded slightly. We stood there for about ten minutes not saying a word. I broke it.
“ Who are you? What are you doing here?” he looked up at me as if I broke him out of his train of thought.
“ I’m Lucas Clyde. And I’m hiding from my step father.”
“ Why? Did you do something wrong?” He lowered his head so his bangs covered most of his face. He sat down on the couch.
“ I….ran away. I saw him kill my mother and two younger brothers. He went after me. I didn’t put up much of a fight. So, I ran.” That would explain his cut wound. His step father must be hunting him down right now. I walked into the kitchen and dug through the refrigerator.
“ Want something to eat Lucas?”
“ Sure.” He sat down at the counter and turned on the television to the news. The news reporter said that the storm wouldn’t be easing up anytime soon and that we might have a flood with all this rain. He was just about to change the channel, but I stopped him. On the screen was a picture of him under missing person.
“ If you see this boy, please, call this number at the bottom of the screen. Thank you.” he punched the button to turn off the television. I grabbed the phone. He must of thought I was calling to turn him in because he started throwing s**t like dishes and plates across the room.
“ Hello. I would like on large pepperoni and olive pizza and,” I looked at him, “ If you’re done breaking my things. What do you want on your pizza?”
“ Plain?”
“ And one plain pizza please. And a two liter bottle of dr. pepper and Pepsi.” I hung up the phone. He looked at me like I had five heads.
“ Pizza? In the middle of the biggest storm in the century?”
“ What? I’m hungry. And besides, I can’t cook.” I got him a bowl of coco puffs and he looked at me like I had six heads now.
“ I just noticed. I don’t know your name.”
“ So? Do you have to?”
“ I want to know the name of the person who’s helping me hide from my step father.”
“ Its Heather.”
“ Heather,” He said it in a voice like he was dreaming of something sweet, “ Thank you.” A tap was heard on the door. It was the pizza guy Mark. I opened the door and paid him. He walked back to his company car and drove off. I walked into my room and flicked on the television. He sat down next to me, leaning against the wall. His eyes moved past me and to the picture of my family and I. He reached over me and grasped it.
“ Who are these people?” I didn’t even bother looking at that picture. To many memories were locked away in it. Zachary was in the middle with Emma, mother was on Emma’s side and father was on Zachary’s side. I was up on Zachary’s shoulder’s. Smiling huge and being happy. That day was the day Marley first came to visit us. He was young back then and more attractive. Marley was my swimming coach back then and he came over because it was my sixth birthday. Mother found him attractive so she left dad and went for him. A bit of a heartbreaker when she found out he was actually fifty instead of twenty. It took about two years for dad to forgive mom, but that was her personality. She was a slut. And dad was foolish to welcome her back in with open arms. But, I loved her anyways. Emma and Zachary never knew about mom’s many love affairs. But dad, Marley, and I did. Mother wanted it a secret, but dad found out when he caught her lip-locking with his own brother, my uncle.
“ Heather!” Lucas was snapping his fingers in front of my face. I noticed that I dropped my pizza and that he ate his and most of mine.
“ Huh? Sorry. Those are my family.”
“ I see. But I kind of figured that out. It was you that was worrying me. You just spaced out like that. Are you ok?” I nodded.
“ Yea. I’m fine. Don’t worry. But with the police after you, you can’t stay here because they’ll obviously look here.” He nodded, as if he understood what I meant. But, I knew he didn’t. Boys were too dumb to understand anything. He laid down on my bed and stared at the ceiling.
“ Where is your family anyway? Out working?”
“Close,” I said, “ They’re dead.” He sat up and pulled me down into a hug. His skin was warm and the bandages were soaked with dried blood. “ You need a new change of bandages. Hold on.” I walked across the hall and got the second roll of bandages from my mother’s dresser. He un raveled his old bandages and helped me put the new one on.
“ Damn. I’m sorry,” he grunted as he rolled over on his good side, which was facing me. “ I didn’t want anyone to get involved with this. He started shooting at me and this was the first place I saw with lights on.” How long has he been running anyway? And shooting at him? His stepfather should be in jail. I had no clue who his step father was, but I had a feeling, he wasn’t a stranger.
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