Crookwood

By Barbara Elmore

The evening Angelsea Mead confronted her parents about their fighting, she shocked everyone. Including herself. Her family, Angel included, was expert at pretending everything was OK.

So why was she facing two angry people, telling them they should divorce if they couldn't get along? She really didn't want that to happen. Or did she?

Whatever she intended, she apparently inspired her parents to act. In the space of a few weeks, the Meads sell their house in town and the family splits up. Suddenly, Angel is facing an unknown future in Crookwood, with a splintered family, little money, and no friends. Now she must confront something else: Her worst fears about who she really is.

Crookwood is a Texas Institute of Letters award winner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Elmore
• Release date: May 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476360812

Barbara Elmore

Barbara Elmore lives in Central Texas and writes both fiction and non-fiction. Send her an email at [e-mail]

Book preview

CROOKWOOD

Barbara Elmore

Copyright © 2000 by Barbara Elmore

Cover © Viola Delgado

All right reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles. For information address the author at [e-mail].

Library of Congress Catalog Number: 99-068878

ISBN: 0-9676833-1-9

Summary: Angelsea Mead’s life falls apart the days she suggests her parents get a divorce.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1: Only a Suggestion

CHAPTER 2: A Family Meeting

CHAPTER 3: The Disappearance of Dylan

CHAPTER 4: A Visit to the New House

CHAPTER 5: The Big Move

CHAPTER 6: No Visitors Allowed

CHAPTER 7: The Invitation

CHAPTER 8: A New Friend

CHAPTER 9: The Deal

CHAPTER 10: Visiting With the Doctor

CHAPTER 11: A Rumor Comes and Goes

CHAPTER 12: Dylan’s Home!

CHAPTER 13: Once a Monster…

CHAPTER 14: Mom Gets Weird

CHAPTER 15: The Theft

CHAPTER 16: Going Shopping

CHAPTER 17: Audrette’s Surprise

CHAPTER 18: A Good Time Was Had

CHAPTER 19: Changes

ALSO BY BARBARA ELMORE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1

Only a Suggestion

Angel should have known better than to try to sneak inside the house, but it was too late now. Her parents' fight had rekindled before she made it to her bedroom and shut the door. She stood in the middle of the room, her hands knotted into fists, as she listened without intending to.

They were in the kitchen on the other end of the rambling house, but she could hear them clearly even with the door closed. This fight was about one of her father's business parties that her mother didn't want to attend. But they'd fight about the weather or the length of the grass if there weren't something else.

***

Angel hurriedly picked up her book bag and headed for the door, hoping she'd get outside to the patio. Outside you couldn't hear them, and maybe by the time she got her homework done, the argument would be over.

She glanced out the window. There was Dylan walking up San Antonio Street, making his way toward the front door. She didn't want him to hear the arguing. She was in the kitchen before she even knew what she intended to do. Her parents immediately turned toward her, their faces pinched and red.

What is it? her mother snapped.

Angel didn't know what to say. The silence became heavy. When her mouth actually opened and words came out, they startled her as much as anyone. She had thought them a million times but never dared utter them. But out they came, and the flow was as unstoppable as a cresting river.

Since you two don't like each other, why don't you just get a divorce? Because Dylan and I are sick of your yelling.

As soon as the words were out, she wanted to recall them. She studied her mother's white face and widened eyes. Gaylon Mead was breathing so softly you couldn't hear it. Her hands were twisting a cuptowel into a small rope.

Angel turned to look at her father, Gary. As her eyes met his, he looked at the floor. She knew instantly that she had spoken his thoughts. Divorce. The voice in her head told her she was stupid to be surprised. She should leave, but she couldn't. And not only could she not recall her words, she could not keep more from coming.

Dylan goes to bed with a pillow over his head. Have you ever seen him do that? It makes me sick to my stomach. You know what I do so I can't hear you? I wear my headphones and turn the volume way up. But I can still hear you in my head.

She felt the panic rising in her throat. What was she going to do now, and why hadn't she thought about that before? She had always been good at planning her next move. But this time she hadn't even thought about it.

Her mother moved toward her with her arm extended, a pleading look on her face. Angel involuntarily took a step backward. She turned and ran out of the kitchen, colliding hard with someone in the hall. The sweaty smell of her nine-year-old brother filled her nostrils.

Dylan's bushy brown eyebrows made two perfect arches. Angel stared at them to avoid his eyes. She hadn't realized he was already inside the house. He must have heard enough of what she said to get the gist of it, and probably felt he had been betrayed. They had an unspoken pact never to mention the fights. She pushed past him and ran down the hall and outside. The sun had gone down and the dimness of twilight cast soft reflections on the swimming pool in the back yard. Without stopping, Angel flung her book bag on the patio table and ran into the garage. She jumped on her bicycle and pedaled down San Antonio Street.

When she got the bike for Christmas a year ago, she thought she'd never use it. Her best friend Cat didn't have one. Dylan was the only person she knew who ever rode a bike. One day he challenged her to a race. She let him win to get rid of him, then pedaled off on her own. Ever since, she had enjoyed her rare bike rides. She loved the feel of wind in her hair and the zipping sound the tires made on the pavement. She was especially fond of the cover that nighttime provided. She enjoyed slipping by the neighborhood walkers and imagined how they must see her — a mystery girl with her dark braided hair flying straight behind her, visible for only a moment before blending with the darkness.

Usually she could ride her bike until her only reality was tires on asphalt, but not this time. The more she tried not to think about what she'd done, the less she was able to think about anything else. Why hadn’t she controlled herself? She didn't want her parents to divorce.

She rode more than an hour before she grew tired, and she turned the bike around and pedaled for home. Her legs felt heavy, as if they were pushing cement blocks. As she coasted into the driveway, two arms reached out of the night and grabbed her handlebars, stopping the bike with a jerk. The hair on Angel's arms stood up until she recognized her mother's perfume.

Where have you been? Gaylon demanded. You left almost two hours ago. I have been worried sick. You know you're not supposed to ride your bicycle after dark!

She sounded angry, but Angel, peering at her mother’s face in the darkness, saw mostly worry lines.

Where's Dad? she asked tonelessly.

He went to a party. Where have you been? her mother repeated.

Nowhere and everywhere. Don't worry — the perverts are at their monthly meeting tonight. No one's prowling for fifteen-year-olds except their mothers. Anyway, what are you going to do when I'm eighteen and free?

***

You'll never be free from me. I'm your mother. Listen, Angel, Gaylon said, her voice becoming serious, …your father and I — we…

Let's just forget it! snapped Angel, wheeling her bike into the open garage door.

Her mom didn't try to talk again about what had happened, even though Angel wished she would and tried to will her to. Just as she didn't want her parents to divorce, she didn't really want her mother to forget the discussion they were supposed to have about how she was sorry about the fight and how they would try to do better.

But her attempts at willing things to happen had never worked well, and this time was no exception. The house was silent all night, except for the icemaker dumping its cargo and the sizzling of the water heater after Angel took her shower. She thought about knocking on Dylan's door, but there was no sliver of light shining beneath it. He must have gone to bed early.

She sighed and went to her own room. But sleep passed her by until the wee hours of the morning, and then she had a panic-filled dream about being caught with Dylan in the lake in a tiny sailboat during a thunderstorm.

She remembered the dream vividly when her alarm buzzed at six-thirty, and she sat up, startled. Her heart was pounding and she was drenched, but with sweat instead of lake water. She had only been in a sailboat once in her life and didn't have the first idea about how to make it work, especially in a storm. She took the memory as her punishment.

CHAPTER 2

A Family Meeting

The house was quiet when Angel walked home from Cat's and let herself into the back door. She didn't want to see or talk to anyone and headed straight for her room.

Honey — Angel — is that you? Can you come to the family room? Gaylon called.

She stood in the hall and considered pretending she hadn't heard. Maybe her mother would give up.

Angel?

She sighed and trudged down the hall. As she turned the corner and saw them, she was immediately on guard. Both parents were there, sitting across from each other. No one ever used this room, least of all them.Her mother smiled one of her too-bright smiles, reserved for strangers, awkward situations, and people she didn't like. Could you go get Dylan? Your father and I want to talk to you both.

Angel pondered what would happen if she said no. She could say she was sick. Or that she had homework to do. She started thinking of excuses — she should bring in her plants, in case the temperature dipped below freezing. She didn't want the bougainvillea that she had gotten last spring to croak. It was one of her first experiments at successfully growing a plant, and it was big and glorious.

Angel? Could you do that for me please — get Dylan? her mother repeated.

Unless she literally ran away, she wasn't going to get out of this. She stalked back down the hall to her brother's room, dreading what she'd find. He'd been weird for a couple of weeks, ever since D-day, which was the label she privately put on her stupid foray into her parents' fight. His weirdness didn't exactly stand out in this family of weirdos, but Angel had noticed. He was quiet almost all the time, and Dylan was never quiet. She couldn't remember the last time he'd been out with his friends. And he'd rejected two of her own invitations to shoot hoops.

***

She stuck her head inside his room. Books were spread out on his desk and the cursor was blinking on his computer, but he wasn't sitting in front of it. She went in. He was upright on