The Soulkeepers (6 page)

"Effing idiots," Jacob said. The knot in his
stomach tightened. Malini was joking about this now but he knew how
it must feel. It wasn't right. He forced himself to smile for her
sake. "Do you want me to pound them for you?"

"Yeah sure, right now."

He faked to stand just long enough for
Malini's eyes to grow wide and her face to flush, then fell back
into his chair, laughing. She clocked him on the shoulder. The
truth was Jacob thought he could take Dane and he had it coming,
but taking on all of them in the cafeteria would be suicide. It
wasn't the right time. But someday, someday soon, Jacob was going
to teach that guy a lesson.

"Malini, what are you doing after school
today?"

"Walking home, as always."

"Do you want to study together again? I'm
supposed to meet my uncle at his shop but then we could go to
McNaulty's."

"Sure."

McNaulty's was a six-table family restaurant
next to the Peterson's Clothier up Main Street. Malini and Jacob
had gone there a couple of times after school. It was usually empty
on the weekdays and Mrs. McNaulty let them sit at a table for hours
sipping free refills of soda.

After school, they made their way down the
cracked squares of concrete along Main Street. Malini pointed out
the green necks of crocuses sprouting in the muddy patches on
either side of the walk. The snow had melted, but Jacob had to take
her word for it that spring was coming. The cutting wind seemed to
disagree.

"You know, my father says your uncle's shop
has been here since Paris was settled."

"Really?"

"Your family has been in Paris over one
hundred and fifty years, Jacob."

"Wow, a hundred fifty years and I didn't
know they existed until just after Christmas."

"What?" Malini turned toward him but Jacob
ducked inside the shop. The last thing he wanted to talk about was
the Laudners. But Jacob noticed for the first time the crumbling
red brick around the entrance, the worn marble floor, the
hand-carved sign: Laudner's Flowers est. 1858.

"Jacob, is that you?" Katrina's voice called
from the back room.

"Yeah, Katrina. Is John around?"

Katrina emerged, large clippers in her hand.
"No, he had to go on a delivery."

"Could you tell him Malini and I are going
to McNaulty's to study?"

"Tell him yourself. You're supposed to stay
and help out this afternoon. They've got the Harrington wedding
tomorrow and need fifty feet of fern garland."

"Sorry, Katrina. Can't."

"Whatever. I'll just tell him the truth.
You're completely useless." She rolled her eyes.

Jacob was out the door before Malini could
introduce herself to Katrina. He heard her beating feet down the
sidewalk trying to catch up to him. He opened the door to
McNaulty's for her.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"My uncle keeps trying to get me to work in
his shop."

"Well why not? It doesn't sound so bad."

"It's a long story, Malini. Just don't ask.
You don't want to know."

"If you say so, but I would love to have my
own money." She slid into a booth by the window.

Jacob crossed his arms over his stomach.
He'd been accepting spending money from his uncle for lunch, his
cell phone, movies, and of course his new cold weather clothes.
Jacob hated taking the man's money but it couldn't be avoided. He
would have to get a job eventually if he ever wanted to earn a
ticket back home, but he figured if his dad disliked the Laudners
enough to legally change his name, then he wasn't going to work in
a shop by that name. It just didn't feel right.

"Can I ask you something, Jake?" Malini
leaned forward across the table. "That first day, in school, I
heard you say that your father was Caucasian and your mother was
Chinese, but your last name is Lau. Why wouldn't your dad just take
your moms last name? Why shorten Laudner to Lau?"

"The sad thing is that I don't know. Three
months ago, I thought the only last name my father ever had was
Lau." He stirred his soda with his straw, watching the trail of
bubbles circle the glass.

"What happened to your parents?"

"They're gone. My father died in
Afghanistan, and my mother is missing."

"I'm so sorry. How awful. Is that why you
never talk about Hawaii, or when you were a kid?"

"I don't want to talk about my parents."

Malini made a small choking noise and Jacob
could see he'd embarrassed her. A blush crawled up her neck. He
opened his mouth to tell her it was okay, but she cut him off.

"You don't have to talk about it, Jake,"
Malini said, her hand on his arm. "We have Biology." She held up
her book and smiled.

Heads Will Fly

Sleep was the enemy. Jacob wrestled with it
every night, the endless rush of thoughts that no amount of tossing
or turning could lay to rest. The guilt that he hadn't done enough
to help find his mom mingled with his anger toward Dane and his
friends. Together, the emotions created the world's best
anti-sleeping pill. The alternative was worse. If he fell asleep,
he'd dream weird, vivid dreams, the kind that made you sweat and
scream in your sleep. Sometimes it was the false memory replaying
in his head. Other times he saw the ghost at his window. He might
dream of being chased or showing up to a test without a pencil but
all of his dreams were alike in one important way. He was helpless
in them. Absolutely helpless. So, as the first rays of sunshine
cast dappled shadows across his desk he was already awake.

In his hands, he turned the jewelry box that
he'd found among his mother's things. How could he have missed it
in the tiny apartment? He needed a way to open it, something that
wouldn't damage it. If he could just see what was inside, maybe
something would explain why she was different those last weeks, and
why she'd gone to Manoa Falls that last day.

He lifted the box higher, heavy even with
two hands, and inspected the bottom. There was a label, the white
kind that you see on the tabs of manila folders. Hurried but
familiar, it was a phone number, nothing more, but it was
definitely in his mother's handwriting. Jacob set the box down
carefully and copied the numbers onto a yellow sticky note. Then he
grabbed his cell phone off the dresser and crept down to the
kitchen.

In front of the bay window, at the heavy
pine table, he sat with the number in one hand and his phone in the
other. What would he say? Do you sell jewelry boxes? Do you have
any extra keys? There wasn't much time before the Laudners woke up
and he didn't want to explain who he was calling. Not wanting to
waste another minute, Jacob plugged the numbers into the phone,
still unsure what he would say, and listened to the ring, once,
twice, three times. Finally, he heard the familiar static of an
answering machine.

"You have reached Red Door Martial Arts."
The voice was male, rich and deep. "We are not available at the
moment but if you please leave a message, we will call you
back."

Jacob snapped the phone shut. Of course they
wouldn't have answered; it was the middle of the night on Oahu. He
reread the sticky note. Had he dialed the wrong number? He dialed
it again and got the same message. Why would his mother have the
number for a martial arts business on the bottom of her jewelry
box? It didn't make sense.

He leaned back in his chair and stared
across the street at the Victorian. The vines on the wrought-iron
fence were beginning to green. He tried his best to concentrate on
the color and to forget where he was and why. The world outside was
a rolling sea and he was on a raft without a paddle. There was
nothing to anchor him and no way to shore. He had to think. He had
to find a way back to his life.

The floor creaked. Jacob turned in his
chair. Katrina stood in the archway to the family room, a wry grin
lifting the corner of her mouth. She cocked her head sideways when
their eyes met. The expression reminded him of a rat and Jacob
wondered how long she'd been looking at him like that.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I was just wondering if you were hungry,"
Katrina said. She flipped her curly brown hair behind the shoulder
of her sweater. One of her blue suede boots rested on the wall
behind her. Her gray tights and suede mini skirt reminded him of
doll clothes, too perfect, too pressed.

"No, not really..."

"Because, if you were hungry," she
interrupted, "I would be happy to make you some eggs. That is what
you like isn't it? Eggs? You know, you are what you eat." She
laughed callously.

The knot in Jacob's stomach tightened to a
point he'd never experienced. It was a point of pain, of looking
out from his loathing as if it were a cocoon that had served its
purpose. His ears felt hot. His heart thundered in his chest.

"Just wanted you to know your cafeteria
adventures have made it all the way to the senior class." With a
smirk, she held up her cell phone.

It was too much. Everything here was wrong:
the people, the weather, the box that didn't make sense, the house
across the street that gave him the chills, the pink room. He
couldn't breath. He couldn't move. The muscles in his chest and
stomach had tightened to the point of self-suffocation. The events
of the last four months flashed before his eyes: the accident,
finding out his mom was missing and maybe dead, Dane, Paris,
learning his father once was named Laudner. At every turn there
were walls and those walls were closing in. He didn't belong here.
But most of all, Jacob would not allow his suffering to be
Katrina's entertainment.

Air rushed into his lungs. It was an
involuntary thing, a reflex. The breath filled him until something
snapped. It was as if each event had been a rubber band wrapped
around the last, winding tighter and tighter. This new air, this
new breath of oxygen had broken the outer band. All of them were
unraveling at once, snapping and rolling within him.

The lid was left open and the snake was set
free.

Jacob sprung to his feet. He vaguely felt
himself ascend the stairs and enter Katrina's room. It took only
seconds to decide. The glass case made it all too obvious that they
were precious to her, perfectly adorned in frilly outfits,
certificates of authenticity displayed behind each one. In one
smooth movement, he picked up her desk chair and brought it
crashing down on the case. Glass exploded all around him. It sliced
his arm open but he didn't feel it. Jacob reached through the
shards and ripped the five antique dolls from their stands.

It took both hands to carry them all but he
cruised down the front steps two at a time, shoving through
Katrina's best attempts to stop him. Jacob ran out the front door
and dropped the dolls in a heap in the driveway. A moment in the
Laudners' garage and he'd found what he was looking for: a lead
pipe and a spool of twine.

Katrina must've filled John and Carolyn in
on what had happened because the three glowered at Jacob from the
front window while he quickly tied the dolls to the Laudners' white
picket fence. A vengeful grin that felt unfamiliar crawled onto his
face. Then, as he watched the Laudners move toward the door,
Katrina's horror evident in her open mouthed expression, Jacob
heaved the heavy lead pipe over his right shoulder and swung.

CRACK
! The first dolls head left its body and slammed into the oak
tree in the middle of the Laudners front yard, bursting into a
million china pieces on impact. The pipe came around and hit him in
the back. The pain, the sound, the anger, the vibration in his
hand, it was all a wonderful release. It was like feeling sick all
day and then finally throwing up. Jacob let the sick escape his
body in a dark laugh that he would have sworn was someone else's if
it wasn't coming out of his own mouth.

"Stop!" she screamed from the open door.
"They're antiques!"

Jacob swung again and a blonde ponytail went
bouncing into the street. He was disappointed this one didn't
shatter. It must have been made of something else.

"YOU WANT TO MESS WITH ME KATRINA!" Jacob
yelled and moved down the fence.

"Stop! Jacob, they are worth hundreds of
dollars—you must stop!!" John bellowed.

Jacob knew there was nothing they could do
but watch. The metal pipe swung with such force and abandon that
Katrina cringed as it whistled through the air and Uncle John stood
frozen in the doorway. The strange laugh bubbled out of him again
as the pipe made contact with doll number three. Blood from the cut
on his arm had trickled down to his hands. Drops of it bloomed in
the air around him on impact, peppering the explosion of glass with
splashes of bright red.

"OH MY GOD! JACOB, YOU WILL PAY!!!" Katrina
was hysterical now. She bawled into the arms of her mother and
huddled behind John in the frame of the front door. Jacob glanced
in their direction, twisted his body and launched a round head with
a black bob across the road. His skin tingled, his heart thumped,
the blood drip-dripped onto the grass. As Jacob approached the
fifth and final doll, he was vaguely aware John had joined him in
the yard.

John was yelling but, although he could see
his mouth move, he couldn't hear him. The only sound was the blood
that pounded in his ears. His only thoughts were wrapped within the
snake, the coil of anger he'd kept knotted in his stomach for so
long, no longer in its cage but in his skin. It was an anger that
filled him, that set every cell in his body on fire.

Jacob refused to be a victim for one more
day. He refused to accept what life had handed him without a fight.
His name was Jacob Lau, L. A. U. And if anyone had a problem with
that, he had a lead pipe.

Time slowed. He approached the red curls of
the last doll and wielded the lead pipe with everything he had. His
wrists turned over as he connected. Blood sprayed across the white
picket fence. The pipe came around and hit him in the back.