Alma Underwood Is Not A Kleptomaniac Read online

  “Let’s begin this meeting with some introductions. I’m sure Shepherd has already blabbed, but seeing as how Rumor is my friend, I think it’s only fair I properly introduce him.” Alma gestures toward my position, half in the room, half out. “This is Rumor Rawlings. He’s here from Chicago. His favorite color is forest green. He enjoys skateboarding and clean clothes. His dog of choice is the mac daddy.”

  I fight back a laugh.

  “Rumor, this is the Underwood clan.” She narrows her eyes at the eldest. “You know Shepherd, and his actions do not need any further introductions.”

  He starts pacing.

  She disregards him and points toward a figure sitting cross-legged on an old wooden rocking chair, draped in an oversized fur coat the color of a ripe plum. “This is Lenox. My sort of twin.”

  Alma warned me she and her family are like something out of a bad budget horror film but I suppose it’s one of those things you can’t fully believe until you witness it with your own eyes.

  They’re identical. All of them. Like a matching set you’d pick out at the store.

  Lenox lifts her hand in a cautious wave. She flashes Alma a look and they seem to have a quick conversation with their eyes before Lenox’s lips curl into a smile. “Hi.”

  I nod in response.

  That interaction seems to satisfy Alma and she directs my attention to the people sitting side by side on a big blue couch.

  The girl is upside down, feet pointing toward the ceiling while the tips of her dark hair sweep the floor. Beside her is a dude sitting ramrod straight, stroking the strangest looking dog I’ve ever seen.

  It has hair, but also it doesn’t, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

  “Rumor, this is Jackson and Holland. The real twins. They enjoy all things sciencey. Later, I’ll receive an essay under my door, schooling me on why sciencey is not a proper word and should be expunged from my vocabulary.”

  I flash them both a polite smile.

  “Okay.” Alma takes a step forward. “Now that we have the introductions out of the way, who has questions?”

  Jackson’s hand shoots up into the air. He rotates his upper body, moving the dog to his shoulder. “Are you a born amputee or did you suffer some sort of tragedy?”

  “Jackson!” Lenox shakes her head, fingers to her temples. “You can’t just ask people where their hand is.”

  “Nah, it’s fine.” I move deeper into the room, my face neutral. “I fell into the lion’s den at the zoo when I was five. No, I didn’t feel any pain and I don’t remember a thing.”

  Alma slaps her hand over her mouth.

  “Well, shit.” Jackson muses. “I am never going to the zoo again.”

  Swift tension is severed by Alma’s exultant giggle. It goes on for a full minute, hand still pressed against her lips, shoulders quaking. When our eyes finally meet, hers are smoldering behind tears of laughter.

  “I don’t get the joke.” Holland frowns, eyes moving quickly, Alma and I their targets. “What’s funny?”

  Alma beams. The light in her is infectious.

  “He’s kidding.” She dabs at her eye with a knuckle.

  “I was born like this.” I hold up my nub. “It’s called con––"

  “Congenital Amputation. I've heard of it,” Jackson finishes, disappointment lacing his face. “Dude, you should’ve stuck with the zoo story.”

  “Can we get down to what’s important here?” Shepherd marches to the center of the room. “I’m about ninety percent sure Rumor is living inside Alma’s room.”

  “Huh.” Holland cocks her head. “How does another person fit inside that room?”

  “He sleeps on a pool float.” Alma’s answer is quick. “It’s a bit tight but we make it work.”

  “Which one?” Lenox inquires, sliding to the edge of her rocking chair. “The pizza one, right? It has to be. It’s the only one big enough.”

  “Well, there’s the taco,” Holland throws out. “But it’s shape wouldn’t allow for a good night’s rest unless he sleeps curled up in a ball.” She looks at me. “Do you sleep curled up in a ball?”

  “Uhm...”

  “Have you all lost your minds?” Shepherd squalls. “There is a stranger sleeping in our sister’s room and you’re all wondering what his preferred sleeping position is?”

  “Shep, keep up.” Lenox sits back, arms crossing over her chest. “He’s been here for weeks.”

  My jaw unhinges.

  Lenox snorts. “A, you are terrible at keeping secrets and even worse at being sneaky. You’ve been taking random plates of food up to your bedroom for weeks. There’s suddenly an extra bath towel in the laundry load, and a random toothbrush forgotten about on the bathroom sink. Not to mention the backdoor is kitty-corner to Holland and I’s bedroom. The two of you creep in every night, arguing over whether or not someone can hear you.”

  “You might as well be speaking into a megaphone,” Holland agrees.

  Alma sways. I take two giant steps, positioning myself behind her.

  “I can’t believe you two knew!” she shrieks. “Jackson? Did you know?”

  He shrugs, still caressing his dog. “My sisters keep me informed.”

  “But nobody thought to call me?” Shepherd’s back to pacing, hands linked behind his neck. “What the hell? Nobody in this house can make a courtesy call?”

  “Eh.” Lenox picks at her fingernails. “It slipped our minds after a while.”

  Shepherd explodes. “Slipped your minds? Are you kidding me right now?”

  “Shep, he’s been here for weeks,” Jackson says. “If he was going to kill us or eat Charlevoix he would’ve done it by now.”

  “Eat your dog?” I deadpan. “Really?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know you.”

  “You’re all insane.” Shepherd’s laughter has an edge to it, his face burning so hot, we could roast marshmallows over his cheeks. “Each and every one of you is completely insane.”

  “Excuse you!”

  Alma’s bark makes us all flinch. She whips around, finger inches from Shepherd’s face. Her dark eyes are feral, calculating Shepherd’s movement with an icy intensity I had no idea she was capable of. All two hundred and six bones in her body are quivering with each word she snarls. “Before you start calling our entire family insane, stop and consider where Rumor was before I met him.” A muscle in her neck twitches. “Rumor is here because he has nowhere else to go. He is going to stay here until that changes. If you fight me on it, I will fight back.”

  “Alma.” The irritability in Shepherd’s gaze eases. “I’m not about to call the cops or drag your friend out by his collar. I just want to know who he is and why he’s living in your room.”

  She rises to her tippy toes. There’s a slight shake in her voice when she says, “then ask him.”

  “Ace.” I turn away from the attention, pressing my fingers to my lips. My nose burns, and I bite the inside of my cheek as if that is going to keep me from deteriorating. Alma makes eye contact with me, and she’s the only person in this room I allow to see. Giving her a wonky smile, I mouth thank you.

  Wrinkles form around her mouth while her lips purse in uncertainty, unable to interpret my gratitude.

  She doesn’t know.

  Her kindness and willingness to go up to bat for me since the second she met me is like a break in the storm clouds. She is a someone when I thought I had no one. If I tell her thank you every day for the rest of my life, it won’t be enough.

  Her hand on my arm pulls me out of a trance. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I bow my head. “Alma, I don’t want my presence here to make anyone uncomfortable.”

  “Shepherd just has some questions.” The pressure of her grip increases. “But you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to. Okay?”

  Okay.

  I shake out the tension in my muscles and plant myself in front of the infamous Underwoods. Shepherd has taken up residence on the edge of the couch, ar
ms crossed and back rigid. I look toward Alma. She makes no moves to leave my side. I let her stay.

  I want her to stay.

  “So, I’m Rumor.” I lift my chin in greeting. “Yes, that is actually my real name. Who has a question?”

  Shepherd leans forward. “How did you meet my sister? Where are your parents? Are you really from Chicago?”

  “That was three questions, Shep.” Holland frowns. “Don’t be rude. Leave some for the rest of us.”

  “Yes, I’m really from Chicago.” I kick off Shepherd’s three-parter with the easiest answer. “Alma found me living in a train car. She kidnapped me. As for my parents, my dad is dead and that’s why I’m not in Chicago anymore.” Shepherd’s mouth pops open. I hold up my hand. “My dad was my only family. I got shoved in a group home after he died. It sucked there so I ran. I’m here now.”

  “My turn to ask a question!” Lenox looks to me. “Was the train car Alma found you in named Mo? If so, did she threaten to juice you?”

  “Juice me?” What the hell does that mean? “No. She ordered me to go find a new one. I didn’t want to because Mo was the warmest so I suggested we be neighbors. Somewhere between that conversation and her astute observation skills, she pegged me for being homeless and demanded I come live in her attic.”

  Alma makes a noise and steps closer to me. “You didn’t tell me Mo was the warmest.”

  “It didn’t matter.” I widen my stance. “Next question?”

  “Yeah.” Instead of raising his hand, Jackson lifts the dog. “Why did you choose Flat Rock? There are cooler places.”

  “What do you mean?” Alma huffs. “Flat Rock is cool. We have Doggy Style and Krispy Kreme. What’s not to love?”

  She’s doing it again.

  Saving me.

  She doesn’t have to but she does anyway. Steps right up and goes toe to toe with her brothers and sisters, side-stepping their questions and babbling facts about why Flat Rock is a great place to visit. All so I don’t have to provide an answer that makes me uncomfortable. I’ve gotten good at that in the last few weeks.

  Avoiding.

  It’s exhausting.

  Somewhere between my dad’s death, the group home, and living in a train car, I transformed into a person I don’t always recognize. I’m a liar. A master of evasion.

  I don’t exactly relish in the idea of playing dirty. Actually, it kind of makes me want to vomit, and I’m tired of walking around with a stomach full of bile. My hands were tied in regards to her parents. But her siblings deserve some semblance of the truth for staying mute when they discovered where I was living.

  They’re good people.

  I almost forgot how to be one myself.

  “My mother lives in Flat Rock,” I speak over Alma’s chatter, letting out my truth in a whoosh before I lose my nerve. “I chose to come to Flat Rock because this is where my mom is.”

  “Awesome,” Shepherd drawls. “Go live with her.”

  “I would love to.” I claw at the back of my neck. “I just, uhm, I have to find her first.”

  Holland lifts a finger. Her mouth opens and then shuts again.

  “The last time my mom saw me I was a newborn. It’s a long shot she’s even here anymore, but my dad told me once that she grew up in Flat Rock. That’s all I know about her.”

  The room is cast in silence. All four of them deflate, donning sloped eyebrows and downturned lips. Even Shepherd has a hand over his heart like he’s just now remembering it’s there. Lenox and Alma are doing that thing again––talking with their eyes. The rest of them are looking at anything but me.

  “Do mom and dad know?” Lenox murmurs, still looking toward Alma.

  My roomie shakes her head. “They met him a few days ago. He’s going to do some work at the motel but they don’t know he lives here. Can we please keep it that way?”

  They all nod. Even Shepherd, though it was slight.

  The room is soundless, and I feel like I just sucked the life out of each of them.

  “I’ll find her,” I say with a firmness I don’t feel. “It may take me a while, but I’ll find her.”

  “Of course, you will,” Alma says with a fresh smile. “I’ll help you.”

  “We all will.” Lenox stands from her seat. “This town isn’t that big. More than half of the elderly population has lived here their whole lives. It’ll just take some quality snooping.”

  “We’ll have to be smart about it.” Jackson taps his chin. “But it’s definitely a do-able mission.”

  “Are there stipulations?” Holland asks me.

  “What?”

  Her hands move as she talks. “You know, certain stipulations you’d like this mission to follow. A timeline? People or areas to avoid?”

  “Uhm.” I consider it. “Well, I guess the only thing is that I’d like to lay low until I turn eighteen. If someone finds me it’s possible they’ll––"

  “Send you back to that shithole?” Shepherd questions, standing to his feet.

  “Uh… yeah.”

  “How do we know they aren’t looking for you?”

  “Runaway teens are a dime a dozen in Chicago. Even in the suburbs where I lived. I doubt they’re looking for me if there isn’t a parent in the station demanding a search party on my behalf. I can’t be sure but I’m counting on the system ignoring my absence unless it’s dangled in their face.”

  He gives me a curt nod. “Then we’ll make damn sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “Thanks.” I shove my hand in my pocket and let my hair fall into my face some. All of this sympathy toward my unpredictable future makes me uneasy. I’ve never enjoyed being the center of attention and the last thing I thought I’d do was involve other people in what has become my wreckage.

  But I won’t pretend the dryness in my throat or my newly rapid heartbeat isn’t there.

  You don’t always value what you have until it’s all ripped from you in the amount of time it takes you to skateboard from one side of town to the other. Standing in this brightly colored room, with five people who just pledged help to a stranger, I feel like I got some of it back.

  “Thank you.” I look them all in the eye. “I’m not sure how long this will take but I don’t want this to hold precedence over your own lives. You’re all going back to school soon. That should come first.”

  “Noted.” Holland bobs her head. “Does anyone else know you’re here?”

  “Alma told her friends.”

  There is a consecutive groan.

  “Well, there goes that.” Shepherd snorts.

  “The whole school will know soon enough.” Jackson props his feet on the coffee table. “Arthur’s a walking time bomb. Secrets make him jittery.”

  “He isn’t going to say anything.” Alma rolls her eyes. “This isn’t somebody’s second-grade crush, its Rumor’s life. He respects it.”

  Jackson isn’t convinced. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

  Alma rolls her eyes. “Are we good now? Should we adjourn this family meeting?”

  “We could start looking for Rumor’s mom.”

  I wince at Lenox’s suggestion. “Uhm, we don’t have to do that… right now, I mean. We can wait.” My palms get sweaty.

  “Geez, Len,” Alma blurts. “Give the guy a break. He’s had a day.”

  Thank you, Ace.

  “Well, I vote we pull out some movies and have a kitchen sink night before I have to go back to campus,” Shepherd suggests.

  “I second that.” Jackson raises the dog again.

  “Alright.” Alma smiles and claps her hands. “Meeting adjourned. Any final questions?”

  I raise my hand. “What’s a kitchen sink night?”

  12

  Hello?

  Rumor

  If I had an egg, I could crack it on the cement and fry it right here and now. I don’t have an egg, so I’ll probably just eat myself after the sun scorches me.

  I sit back on my heels and wipe the sweat off my forehead, looking to the sky. T
he cloud directly above me looks like it’s flipping me off. Fitting. I raise my hand and give it the bird right back.

  “That mad at the big man, huh?”

  Reggie hobbles toward me, his cane tapping against the sidewalk. I stop myself from jumping up to help him. If I learned anything from working here, it’s that Reggie will beat me with his cane if I try to treat him like an old man. Even though I’m pretty sure he has arthritis in every bone of his body.

  “Take this before you dehydrate yourself, son.” He extends a bottle of water with his free hand and gives it a shake.

  I jump to my feet and snatch it from him, unscrewing the cap and guzzling the whole bottle in one go. The cool water puts out the fire inside my gut and I feel less like I’m going to turn into dirt. “Thanks.”

  “Come sit in the shade for a minute, kid. You look like a lobster.”

  I stare longingly at the Adirondack chairs perched below the motel’s awning. Reggie lowers himself into one and lets out a sigh, looking pointedly at the vacant one beside him. I move to join him before retreating at the last second.

  I’m here to work.

  “That wasn’t just a suggestion.” Reggie hollers when I turn my back on him. “Get over here and take a break. Lord Almighty, don’t be a stubborn mule. You’re going to faint and then what good will you be?”

  “I’m almost done,” I call over my shoulder, dropping back down to my knees.

  I wrap my fingers around a weed peeping through the crack in the cement and pull. A gardening glove slips and slides on my sweaty hand, and I’m not prepared for what it’ll smell like when I return it to Clare.

  I toss the weed in a five-gallon bucket and inch forward. I’m more than halfway done, and there’s hardly any of the smaller weeds left to fight with.

  “Are you wearing sunscreen?” Reggie shouts at me.

  “Nope! I didn’t know I’d need it.”

  “Do you know how to check the weather? It’s ninety degrees out and you’re wearing jeans. Put on a pair of shorts before you have a heatstroke!”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Right after I buy a pair of shorts.