Jericho Jaxon Page 3

  Gunner slowly peeks behind us. “No, he’s gone.”

  “Seriously?” I take a quick glance, and sure enough, he’s disappeared. I breathe a small sigh of relief.

  “You can’t tell me that Nico isn’t an alien.”

  “He is a bit odd,” I admit.

  “Odd?” he sputters. “The guy is literally out of this world.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not sure what to think anymore.”

  “You know there are people who believe that the Phoenix area is frequently visited by UFOs.”

  “And those people are nuts.”

  “You would think someone who was raised by psychics would be a little more open to the possibility of paranormal phenomena.”

  “I’m skeptical of all things supernatural.”

  “So why did you drag me all the way out here to this broken-down old trailer in the middle of nowhere?”

  “It’s mine.” I try to sound upbeat, but my enthusiasm for the gift from my grandfather has clearly waned. I’ve inherited a rattrap.

  “What do you mean it’s yours?”

  “My grandfather left it to me. Along with the land. Forty acres.”

  “Seriously?”

  I nod. “My aunts gave me the deed as an early birthday present.”

  Gunner takes his time walking around the trailer and inspecting it. “This is going to take a lot of work to restore.”

  “You did a great job on my Vespa,” I remind him.

  “Let’s have a look at the inside.”

  As he opens the door, I hear scuffling and squealing. Are the rats trying to escape? “I think I’m going to be sick.” My stomach knots as the image of rodents attacking me fills my thoughts.

  “Why don’t you wait out here and let me check inside?” Gunner suggests.

  “This is the place where my mother grew up. Right inside this trailer. I want to go in with you.”

  “At least let me go in first.”

  “Okay.”

  Gunner takes the first tentative step onto the small set of stairs, then climbs into the musty trailer.

  I follow close behind.

  The air inside is stale and dusty. When I cough, I hear more scurrying sounds all around me.

  The place is a wreck. The cushions on the couch are all torn apart. They look like they were used for rat nesting. The floor is covered with dead bugs and rat droppings. The kitchen counter and sink are filled with mold. That’s just what I can see with a quick look around.

  “This is going to take a lot of work,” he repeats, then gives a huge sigh.

  “Do you think it’s worth it?”

  He looks directly into my eyes. “Do you think it’s worth it?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “My parents expect me to work at the gun shop a lot more after graduation. I’ll basically be running the place while they travel around the country to gun shows. I won’t have much time to help you.”

  “I don’t have a job yet.” Not that I have any idea what I want to do with my life. Right now, I feel like I’m in a holding pattern until I find my mom and dad. How do I know where I’m going, what direction my life should take, if I don’t know where I’ve come from?

  “I need to do this,” I tell him. “I feel like it will somehow help me connect with my mom.”

  “Then the first thing we need to do is get rodent repellant. A lot of it.”

  Chapter Three

  For the seniors at Cordia High, Grad Night is the most anticipated event of the year. But unlike other schools across the nation that have formal proms, often costing students and their families hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars, at Cordia, we’re all encouraged to wear casual clothing, and the event is sponsored by local restaurants and businesses, so it doesn’t cost students a dime.

  Grad Night always takes place the Saturday evening after graduation. It’s been a Cordia tradition since the school was founded. This year, Grad Night just happens to land on the same day as my birthday.

  I’m not that enthusiastic about the event. I’ve never fit in at Cordia. I did my best to fly under the radar, and for the most part, the other kids ignored me.

  For some reason, Grad Night seems to be important to Gunner. He’s been talking about it for months. He’s the only reason I’m attending. If he didn’t want to go so badly and hadn’t made me promise to go with him, I’d be spending the evening binging on Netflix.

  I slip on a pair of dressy white jeans and a matching blouse. It’s casual but not too casual. I rarely wear makeup, but I decide to put on some eye shadow and lipstick for the occasion. I leave my long brown hair down, rather than putting it into a ponytail like I usually do.

  “You look nice,” Delia says as I enter the living room. She and Anya are waiting to take photographs.

  “This really isn’t a big deal,” I tell them. “It’s not like an actual date. You know Gunner and I are just friends.”

  They exchange a glance. Then Anya snaps a picture of me.

  A few seconds later, there’s a knock on the front door. As soon as I open it, Gunner gives me a huge grin. I notice that he doesn’t have a toothpick in his mouth. And here I thought he had them growing there.

  “You look great,” he tells me.

  “Thanks. So do you.”

  Gunner is wearing dark jeans and a dark button-down shirt. He’s even got on dress shoes with actual laces instead of the old slip-on canvas sneakers he normally wears.

  His unruly hair is tamed with product, which is a first.

  As I inhale his scent, I’m surprised that he’s wearing spicy cologne.

  “Who are you, and what did you do with Gunner?” I tease.

  “It’s the new me. Tomorrow I’ll be a high school graduate. And on Monday, I’ll be working a full-time job. I guess that makes me a grown-up.”

  “I’m impressed,” I tell him. And I mean it. “I wish my life was as put together.”

  “I need a photo of the two of you,” Delia says. “Let’s take it outside.”

  Gunner opens the front door for me, and I head outside. Delia and Anya follow, and Gunner trails behind us.

  “Over there.” Delia points to a shady area underneath her eucalyptus tree.

  Gunner and I march over to the spot she designated and turn to face her.

  He closes the distance between us and drapes his arm over my shoulder. Then Delia snaps a few photos. “The two of you make such a cute couple.”

  I shake my head. “We’re not a couple.”

  “We are a couple,” Gunner whispers to me. “A couple of oddballs.”

  I give him a playful slap on the arm.

  “You two have fun tonight,” Anya says.

  “We will,” Gunner replies.

  I follow Gunner over to his mom’s Jeep. He opens the passenger door for me, and I climb inside.

  He hurries around the front of the car, then climbs into the driver’s seat.

  He starts the engine but doesn’t take off right away. “I want this to be a special night. For both of us.”

  “I do too.”

  The school cafeteria is decorated like an old-time carnival. The Grad Night committee really went all out. Twenty local restaurants have set up food booths, and there’s an assortment of carnival games spread out throughout the room. They even have a cotton-candy vendor and guys walking around in clown costumes handing out balloons.

  “What do you want to eat?” Gunner asks.

  “There’s so much to choose from.”

  “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you.”

  I narrow my gaze at him. “You’re acting strange. You haven’t made fun of me since we arrived. And now you’re telling me that you’re going to do what I want without any argument?”

  He grabs my hand. “Could we go somewhere more private for a few minutes to talk?”

  “Sure.”

  As he’s pulling me out of the auditorium, we run into Alexander Roth and Petra Palmer, two of the most popul
ar kids in school. Their fathers are both bigwigs in high-tech companies based in Cordia. They’re not just wealthy East Siders. Their families belong to the 270 Society. They are the most elite members of the privileged class.

  When we were little kids, long before we understood the implications of being from wealthy versus working-class backgrounds, Alexander had a huge crush on me. He used to leave me love notes on my desk at school.

  To think about it now seems ridiculous. East Siders barely acknowledge the existence of West Siders. Maybe they think if they ignore us long enough, we’ll eventually go away.

  Not that Alexander and Petra have to worry about it much longer. The East Siders who are graduating are all headed off to college, whereas most of the West Siders are looking for jobs.

  “Hey.” Alexander gestures toward me.

  I take a quick look around to see if any of his buddies are nearby, but Gunner and I are the only ones in sight.

  “I’m talking to you, Jericho,” he clarifies.

  “Why?” I blurt.

  He laughs. “Because we’re graduating, and I haven’t talked to you in a while.”

  Since third grade to be exact. “It has been a while.”

  “I didn’t know you were dating Gunner.”

  I realize our hands are still joined. “We’re not,” I correct.

  “Okay.” He stares at our hands for several moments as if he’s trying to figure out the mysteries of the universe. The relationship that Gunner and I have is much more complicated than that.

  “Are you going to Cordia University?” Petra asks.

  It’s a valid question. Most of the kids from our high school who don’t get into Ivy League schools or don’t want to be that far from home end up at Cordia University.

  I shake my head. “I didn’t apply to college.”

  Not that I didn’t have the grades to get in. I was a nearly straight-A student. But I don’t even have the money to take classes at the community college, let alone the hefty price tag of Cordia University.

  “That’s too bad,” she says.

  I shrug. “It would be a waste of money anyway. I have no idea what I’d want to study.”

  “I’m premed.” She gives me a proud smile. Then she grabs ahold of Alexander’s arm. “So is he.”

  “Good luck with that,” I tell her.

  “Good luck with whatever you’ll be doing,” she says.

  I wish I knew what that was, but I don’t have a clue. “Thanks.”

  “Hey,” Alexander says. “My mom just received a huge research grant. They’re looking for interns if you’re interested. It’s just for the summer, but it could lead to a full-time position.”

  “Sure,” I tell him even though I’m not sure at all. It doesn’t hurt to have options, especially with my aunts pressuring me to get a job.

  I’ll need to start saving money to pay for the taxes on my trailer. And for the renovations.

  He reaches into his pocket, removes a black business card, and hands it to me.

  Optimal Mind Institute. Dr. Mary Roth, Director of Research.

  I slip the card into my pocket. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll let her know that you’re going to phone. She always liked you.”

  As Petra pulls Alexander toward the food booths, Gunner pulls me out of the auditorium and into the darkened hallway where the student lockers are located.

  “Now that we’re finally alone, I can give you your birthday present.”

  I heave an exaggerated sigh. “I told you I didn’t want anything.”

  “Too bad. Maybe for once in your life, you’ll give up on your obsessive need to control everything.”

  He reaches into his pocket and removes a small yellow card. It’s a “Get Out of Jail Free” card from a Monopoly game, but he’s laminated it. He hands it to me.

  “What is this for?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “We’re not in high school any longer. We’re not going to see each other every day like we used to. We’ll both be working. We’ll be making new friends. Our paths might not cross as much anymore. This is my way of saying that I’ll always be there for you, no matter what.”

  “You’re the best friend anybody ever had.” I bat my lashes at him and do my best Judy Garland impression.

  He laughs. “Does that make me the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, or the Cowardly Lion?”

  “I think you’re a little of all three. Brains, heart, and courage. You just need to realize those traits in yourself.”

  “Right now, the only thing I want to realize is all that free food in my belly. Let’s go.”

  Grad Night wasn’t as awful as I imagined it would be. I’m not going to say I had the time of my life, but it wasn’t terrible. It was just another one of those milestones that society pressures you into. Like learning to swim and getting your driver’s license.

  I managed to score a job lead, so the evening wasn’t a total waste of time.

  And it was nice to spend time with Gunner before he enters the world of the working stiffs.

  I remove the business card that Alexander gave me from my pocket. Optimal Mind Institute. I have no idea what that means. It sounds like something you’d see advertised on an infomercial in the middle of the night.

  I imagine an upbeat sales voice saying, “The Optimal Mind Institute can help you lose weight and stop smoking.”

  I take a seat at my desk and turn on my laptop. Let’s see if I can find anything online about Dr. Roth’s organization.

  When I type “Optimal Mind Institute” into the search engine, the only entry of any relevance that pops up is the organization’s website. I click on the link.

  The single webpage is black with white lettering, just like the business card Alexander gave me. There’s no other information about the organization. Just an address, phone number, and generic email address.

  How strange is that?

  Alexander said his mom got a big grant. I guess she didn’t use any of the money for website development. Either that or they don’t want any information about the organization online.

  Now I’m starting to sound like Gunner with his conspiracy theories.

  It doesn’t hurt to phone. I’m sure I’ll find out more if they select me for an interview. I decide to call first thing Monday morning.

  Once I’m changed and ready for bed, I remove the horseshoe necklace my mom gave me from my dresser drawer and put it around my neck.

  We’ll see if it protects me from the alps.

  A soft knock on my bedroom door awakens me from a dead sleep.

  “Come in.” My voice is groggy. I sound like a frog with a two-pack-a-day smoking habit.

  Anya and Delia enter. They’re already dressed. What time is it? I didn’t feel like I was asleep that long.

  “Time to get up,” Anya says. “Breakfast is ready.”

  I glance at the clock on my dresser. It’s already quarter after nine. How could I have slept so long? I’m normally up before seven.

  “It was the horseshoe,” Delia says.

  “What?”

  She points to the pendant around my neck. “The horseshoe. It protected you from nightmares so you could get a peaceful sleep.”

  “I don’t know if the pendant had anything to do with me sleeping so late. Maybe it was the excitement of Grad Night.”

  “Just because you don’t believe in things you can’t see,” Delia says, “doesn’t mean they’re not true.”

  Even though I’m skeptical of the paranormal, my aunts have worked hard their entire lives to build their psychic business while raising me, and I respect them for that. I felt cared for even if I didn’t always feel loved. There were times I felt like I was more of an obligation for them than anything else. I never got the impression that my aunts wanted children. They kind of got stuck with me when my mom disappeared. But they did their best to raise me even if they weren’t exactly mother material.

  “We made
you something special for breakfast. French toast. Your favorite,” Anya says.

  “Seriously?” My aunts are notoriously frugal. I can count on one hand the number of times they’ve splurged like that for breakfast. Normally we have plain oatmeal or homemade granola.

  “Seriously,” Anya says. “You’d better get up and get dressed.”

  When my aunts leave my room, I hop out of bed and slip on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

  As I hurry toward the kitchen, I can smell the scent of cinnamon coming from the kitchen. My mouth waters in response.

  My aunts give each other one of their quick glances when I enter the kitchen. They’ve always had their own unspoken language that no one else is privy to.

  Anya removes an envelope from her purse and hands it to me. “This is from both of us.”

  “A graduation present,” Delia adds.

  Inside the envelope is a generic “Congratulations on Your Graduation” card, but inside the card is a check for a thousand dollars. My jaw drops as I stare at the amount and let it sink in.

  I try to hand the check back to Anya. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

  Anya waves my hand away. “We want you to have it.”

  I’m at a loss for words. A thousand dollars. It would take me a month or more to earn that kind of money.

  “We know that things haven’t always been easy for you, Jericho,” Delia says. “Being raised by your aunts isn’t ideal, especially when they’re psychics. But we do love you like our own, even if it isn’t always easy for us to show you how much we care.”

  Tears begin to stream down my cheeks, and I don’t even bother to stop them. “I love you too. Both of you.”

  My mind is already racing with all the renovations I can make to my trailer with this kind of money.

  Gunner and I are standing outside of my trailer, armed with an assortment of cleaning products and an abundance of rodent repellant.

  I hand Gunner a small bucket and a pair of rubber gloves. “Ready?”

  He yawns. “I can’t believe you got me up so early. On a Sunday morning. It’s my only day off. I was going to sleep late and take two naps. I had them scheduled on my calendar.”

  “You don’t have a calendar.”

  “Minor detail.”