Keeper Read online

  Keeper

  Jessica L. Randall

  Keeper

  Copyright © 2018 by Jessica L. Randall. All rights reserved.

  Cover photos: night sky by Sweet Ice Cream Photography, floating girl by Vanjalo

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Paula Bothwell, Amber Argyle, Michelle Pennington, Victorine Lieske, Lisa Seiser Rector, Alyssa Crandall, Katia Randall, and Dedra Tregaskis

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Other Books/Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  I picked up speed, as if I could somehow leave the eerie feeling of being watched behind me. I ran at the canyon all the time, and I’d never felt it until the past few weeks. Maybe it was the recent reports of bobcat sightings. I carried a taser all the same.

  As much as I wanted to keep going, I had to stop for a break. My throat burned as I stood panting at the top of the stairs, an addition to the canyon rim hike I was ever grateful for. It was killer on the muscles, but at least I didn’t have to slow down to scramble over rocks or find a good foothold. I gave myself a minute to catch my breath as I looked out over the green Snake River, lazily moving between the walls of crumbling lava rock. Then I clenched my fists and turned around, ready to get back on the path.

  It turns out, they could suspend you from track but they couldn’t keep you from running. I’d put a lot of my spare time and all of my frustration into it over the last ten days. My mom had even given me a new pair of tennis shoes. I’d found them on our doorstep the day after the big incident. They were half a size too big, but I could live with that. When I put them on, I felt like I could run like the wind, and in rural Idaho that was saying something.

  As far as I could guess, the shoes were Mom’s way of saying that she was a little proud of what I’d done, even though she couldn’t condone any behavior that got me suspended. Maybe I wasn’t ready to go back to school tomorrow, but I was ready for practice, and for my meet next weekend.

  Track was what I held onto. It was my ticket out of here. Not that I minded Twin Falls. It was home. But there was so much out there to see, and that all started with a scholarship to a good college.

  I put my earbuds in and started my running tunes, then pulled out my hair-band and tried to force my hair back into a ponytail. Finally I gave up, letting the silver-lilac strands fall where they would, which it turned out was right into my face, since wind was as much a part of this place as the rough lava rock and sage brush. The thing I hadn’t thought about when I chose the A-line cut was how annoying it would be to run with it flopping into my face and sticking to my mouth. Maybe I’d get used to it. I’d have to, seeing as how I’d sworn off hairpins.

  The hair would be an adjustment, but it was worth it. My new cut gave me a fresh-start feeling, and I’d touched up my roots with my favorite go-to color. Going back to school after my suspension was bound to be weird. I needed confident hair.

  I grabbed the edge of my hoodie and flapped it, hoping to cool myself down with the crisp spring air. Finally I gave up, squirming out of it and tying it around my waist as I continued to kick up dust along the trail.

  The wind whipped in my face as I swished past ribbons of dry, golden grass, trying to avoid loose rocks and patches of old stickers that would poke their tiny spears into my tennis shoes and bum a ride home. I flipped my head back, looking up at the deep blue sky and grinning as my lungs burned.

  “Run like they’re coming to get you, Lexi.” That was what my dad used to say. It was a game we played when we ran these trails together years ago. Then again, it wasn’t long after that that he started proclaiming that there was, in fact, someone coming to get him, so maybe it wasn’t a game at all.

  When the path veered I went left instead of continuing toward my destination. I couldn’t resist pausing to take in the view for a couple of minutes. The canyon rim was one of those places that made you feel like a tiny speck in the universe, but one that mattered nonetheless. It sounded strange, but if you sat for long enough and listened to the wind, the rustling weeds, and the hawks screeching, you could almost begin to feel like you were part of all that majesty.

  I slowed down as I reached the edge of the canyon and found my favorite rock, rough with bright green lichens. I took a moment to stretch out my muscles, feeling the fire shoot through my calves as I folded them back. Then I lowered myself down, scooting away from the edge. As much as I loved being up here, getting too close made me tingle from toes to fingertips.

  There was a certain fear and vulnerability as I looked down, but at the same time a feeling of power, as if being up here put me above all the concerns of school and everything else that seemed so big from close-up.

  I sighed as the horizon turned from purple to blue, and the first white star marked the darkening sky. Mom didn’t like me here when it got dark. She didn’t like me here alone, either, but I couldn’t find anyone crazy enough to run with me. I had to run before my big day back or I’d never sleep. I’d misjudged how much time I had before dark, though. It would probably take me another fifteen minutes to get down the grade, and that’s if I was quick.

  I stood up, and just as I turned, ready to bolt, something jumped out at me. I screamed, jumping back toward the edge of the rock. My assailant barked, wagging its golden tail, the big brown eyes begging for attention.

  I pressed one hand against my chest and shuddered, looking back at my heel teetering on the edge of the drop. When I could breathe again I couldn’t help but laugh. I’d almost killed myself over a dog.

  “That was a close one, boy.”

  Just as I started to move away from the edge a gust of wind knocked me off balance. I scrambled to regain my footing, but my shoe hit a patch of rough gravel. I gasped, my arms shooting out, desperate for something to grab hold of. But there was nothing. I fell off the cliff, suspended in a moment that hovered, like the hawks that soared above me, somehow alight as they barely moved a feather.

  Somehow, I had the time to wonder whether I would hit the water or tumble down the cliff-side, smashing against the black rocks as I went. Probably the second one followed by the first.

  My body smacked against a large rock jutting out of the cliff-side. It felt like all the air left my body. My fingers grasped at the rocks, but my efforts only left them torn and bleeding. I tumbled on, cracking my knee before dropping over the edge again.

  I’d heard that time could seem to slow during traumatic moments. Supposedly, as you headed toward your death, you could take in every detail, maybe even review a lifetime of bad decisions. Probably some kind
of defense mechanism, designed to help you alter the course of events. In my case it seemed cruel, seeing as how there was nothing I could do.

  Whether I wanted the perceived delay or not, I decided to use every last extended second. I thought about my mom, and my little brother Cody. I wondered if my dad was okay. I thought about Kaela and Austin, the only friends that would miss me. Still, the moment of impact never came. I opened my eyes and looked around. The canyon wall rose up just to my left. The Snake River still lurked in shadow below me, dark green and idle. But above me was a bright, blinding light.

  And I wasn’t falling.

  Chapter 2

  There were three loud bangs on my bedroom door, and I opened my eyes. I quickly closed them again, wishing I could just let the fog creep back over my mind and lull me back to sleep. Memories of a dream I’d had drifted back to me. I’d fallen off a cliff. It felt so real.

  I untangled the covers, freeing my legs, and gave myself a look just to be sure. Not a scratch. That was good, because I couldn’t do without my run-and-unwind time. It was going to be a rough few days, at least.

  I knew there was more to my dream than a fall. There was something that waited for my attention, leaving a sick feeling in my gut. I squeezed my eyes shut as remnants of fear and helplessness gnawed at me. As hard as I tried, the details were just beyond my grasp.

  As soon as I gave up an image flashed through my mind, clear and vivid. I sat up quickly, gasping. A pair of eyes. Not just any eyes. They were large and intense with a unique tilt. They were an impossible silvery-blue. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t remember who was sporting those eyes. The only thing I could attach to them were feelings, a messy web of fear and anxiety and resentment and curiosity and gratitude and something that made me blush.

  I scratched at my wrist as I tried to figure out what had happened the evening before. I knew I’d gone running. I remembered driving home, didn’t I? I tumbled out of bed and peeked through the shades. Sure enough, there was my pride and joy in the driveway, a green mini-van with a broken passenger-door handle. My life was still every bit as glamorous as it was yesterday and the day before that.

  As far as I could remember I’d checked in with my mom last night, who wasn’t happy that I was back after dark. Then I’d watched an episode of Weird Hum an Habitats in my room and gone to sleep. It was a perfectly normal evening, and yet my memories of it were a little strange. It was like looking at a painting rather than a photograph. It didn’t feel quite real.

  “Lexi, you up?” my mom shouted.

  “Yeah.”

  I didn’t have any more time to waste on dream analysis. It was time to face the real world, whether I was ready or not. I rubbed my eyes hard, as if I could scrub away the images from my dream. Then I grabbed the PETA t-shirt Austin had given me as a joke from my dresser and slipped it on. Mom was going to like that. I wasn’t going to crawl to school and hide under my desk, though. I might as well own what I’d done.

  Even though a t-shirt and jeans was my outfit of choice for my first day back, I spent a full ten minutes getting my eyeliner right. My give-a-crap about my appearance mostly manifested itself in the meticulous care of my hair and eye make-up.

  My tennis shoes were tossed in the corner of my bedroom. I couldn’t help pausing to check them for scratches. There were a few, which wasn’t surprising considering the wearing in I’d already given them on the canyon trails. I frowned and rubbed a large scuff on one heel that I didn’t remember inflicting on it.

  As I stared at it, I thought about the horrible fall in my dream. The pain made me wince even now. I’d never felt so close to death.

  As dramatic as it sounded, it all must have been related to my insecurity about going back to school. That’s probably what Kaela would say. Since her mom had gone back to school to get a degree in psychology, everything had complex interpretations. It had clearly rubbed off on me as well.

  I grabbed my backpack and hurried to the kitchen. Mom and Cody sat at the bar eating cereal. Mom’s tired blue eyes looked me up and down, pausing on my PETA shirt. She shook her head and sighed. “Lexi, can’t you just act a little sorry?”

  Cody grinned, as if he, at least, approved of my choice. “PETA. I get it,” he said.

  “I’m not really sorry,” I said.

  Mom stared me down. “I said act.”

  “So she doesn’t really have to be sorry?” Cody asked, his face lighting up at the concept.

  Mom twisted her mouth to the side, turning her stern look on Cody.

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” I said. “No more demonstrations of my utter lack of respect for authority.”

  Mom couldn’t resist smiling. She found the principal’s assessment of me as ridiculous as I did. She wasn’t happy that I’d lost my cool and gotten in trouble, but she understood my motive was a respect for life rather than a problem with authority.

  Her smile disappeared. “Hon, speaking of respect for authority, or even basic consideration, I wish you would have checked in with me last night. I was waiting up until late and I never heard you come in. Finally I checked your room and you were already asleep. I hate to even ask, but did you climb in through your window or something?”

  Cody stiffened, his hazel eyes traveling back and forth between the two of us.

  “I did check in with you. Don’t you remember? You were in the kitchen.” I paused, playing the memory in my head as I waited for her to laugh at her mistake. She just stared at me, and I tensed, ready for an argument. “You looked right at me and told me goodnight.”

  She shook her head, and her eyes got that sad look I couldn’t stand. “You’re gaslighting me now? Sorry, I’m not old enough to believe I’m crazy.” She pinched her mouth shut.

  “We don’t use that word in this house,” Cody said quietly, looking down at his bowl.

  Mom gave a regretful glance to Cody, then looked back at me. “Lexi, this just isn’t like you.”

  My jaw dropped. I didn’t know whether to be angry with her for not believing me, or worried about her.

  “Mom—”

  She’d already stood up and was hustling out of the kitchen.

  Cody’s eyes were on me, as if he were studying me. He probably wanted to know if another family member was going to bail on him.

  I sat down across from him. “I didn’t—” What could I say that wouldn’t make him worry about the mental stability of either his mom or his sister? “Hey, it was just a misunderstanding. It was my fault. I guess she didn’t hear me come in and I fell asleep. I must’ve had one of those dreams where you think you do something ...”

  With his spoon suspended half-way to his mouth, he gave me a look that said he wasn’t stupid.

  I reached over and fuzzed his brown hair, grinning when he scowled. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll work it out,” I said.

  I left the table, wishing I could take my own advice. Even though my mom understood me, there’d been friction between us since the incident at school. Not that I could blame her. She probably never thought she’d see the day I’d actually use one of the skills Dad taught me in his more eccentric days.

  “Always keep a couple of hairpins in, just in case,” he’d said, showing me how to bend one to make a little handle at the end. “It might sound silly to you now, but the part we see of our world, our universe, isn’t much more than what you’d see through an old keyhole. There’s a lot more out there, hidden from our view.” He’d sighed heavily, sticking the pin into the keyhole. “You probably wonder what all this crazy talk has to do with picking a lock. Well, even if what’s out there is too much for you to fight on your own, you have to be ready to do your little part. You have to be ready to put up a fight.”

  Who knew that particular life-skill would come in handy so soon? Maybe what I’d done hadn’t had any impact on the universe, but I’d done my part.

  Afterwards, I was afraid that Mom might think I was following in my dad’s footsteps, but judging from the new book on her nightstand,
How to Deal With the Troubled Teen, she just thought I was going through your average teen rebellion. She seemed to be waiting for another round. I wish she could trust that I didn’t plan on there being one. I’d even stopped wearing the hairpins as a show of good intent—and that I was done following the advice of a man who didn’t even want to be part of my life anymore.

  I opened the fridge and broke a piece of cheese off the block, then hurried back to my room and stuck the cheese in Twitchy’s tank. Twitchy was a mouse, and a reminder of the boldest thing I’d ever done. I felt kind of bad about keeping her trapped in there, but she’d been injured, after all. Now that she was used to the easy life, I told myself it would be cruel to release her.

  My phone buzzed. It was Kaela.

  Are you coming?

  On my way.

  I grabbed my hoodie and keys and slung my backpack over my arm. I hurried out the door, wishing I’d said goodbye to Mom before she left. She’d get over our argument, and so would I, but I wished it hadn’t happened today.

  I backed out of the driveway and headed toward Kaela’s. We both lived in the Oak Ridge subdivision, but I didn’t think we had any actual oak trees. If we did, they were too small to notice. I was pretty sure when it came to subdivisions and apartment complexes, there were two hats full of words that included various types of trees and land formations, and they just picked one of each.

  Driving around our neighborhood, I felt smaller than I had on the canyon rim. The houses sat so close together you could toss an egg to your neighbor through the window—if you knew your neighbor. The house exteriors were all painted in various shades of brown and accented with a minimal amount of neutral rock, which was why I’d convinced my mom to let me paint our front door purple. It was a minor rebellion, but there was only so much you could do to stand out here without incurring the wrath of the neighborhood association.

  Logically, I knew that where or how you lived didn’t dictate the significance of your existence. But I couldn’t help feeling like a paper cut-out when I drove down our street. It was a constant reminder that I was a dime-a-dozen, just like everyone else.