Superstitions

By Susan Oloier

Ellie’s mother walked out on her a few years ago, and she refuses to believe her mom won’t come back. To make matters worse, her dad is marrying another woman and her best friend Kyle dumped her for cheerleader Tiffany Sheldon. But when Ellie meets quirky Alexander and learns about his map, his quest, and his background, she finally discovers a way to heal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Oloier
• Release date: Aug 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476089294

Susan Oloier

Susan Oloier lives in Southwest Colorado with her husband and two sons where she skis when it's cold and hikes when it's warm.After working in both finance and teaching, with a single audition at an acting agency, Susan went back to her first love, which is writing. She has been published in national and regional publications, as well as online. You can find her lurking about on her blog at http://www.susanoloier.blogspot.com

Book preview

Chapter One

I didn’t think anything could be worse than a sex talk with my dad. But there we were, sitting across from one another inside the Cold Stone Creamery. Whatever it was he had to say to me, I knew it couldn’t be good. Our trips for ice cream were like Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven. They were always filled with bad news or something serious.

The thing was, my dad always took me to Cold Stone when he had something important he wanted to chat about. Sometimes he took me there to review a questionable report card. One time it was to discuss sex. Another was to tell me that he had a new girlfriend. But his idea of a talk was making sure I was already aware of the subject.

You know about the birds and the bees. Don’t you Pumpkin?

Uh, we went over that in health class, like, three years ago.

About how boys and girls are different—

I think I’m pretty clear on that, dad, I’d say while dipping my spoon into the ice cream.

About condoms and safe sex and loving one another first.

Dad, please, I seethed, glancing around to make sure no one had listened in on our most embarrassing conversation.

Then we’d sit back and eat ice cream. This time was no different. At least that’s what I thought.

It was sixty degrees inside and about one hundred sixty outside. At least that’s how it felt during a Tempe, Arizona summer. Beyond the windows, sienna-colored mountains rose from the perimeter of the valley: a piece of wildness surrounding the vast miles of pavement, strip malls, and endless housing subdivisions. Even in the blistering heat, I would have preferred to be in the middle of the towering saguaros, tangled ocotillos, coiled rattlers, and the creatures lurking in the shade of the Palo Verde rather than be sitting there.

I savored each spoonful of Strawberry Banana Rendezvous as I watched the four-year-old boy at a neighboring table. His oversized scoop teetered precariously on his cone while his mother’s eyes remained glued to an iPhone.

Ellie, we need to talk.

Ellie? He never called me Ellie. It was always Pumpkin. I started to grow concerned.

All right.

Then he set his spoon down. Never a good sign.

Is something wrong? I asked, my eyes moving to the boy again. Tears and devastation seemed inevitable. For both of us. Thoughts scrambled through my head. My dad’s sick. He’s going to leave me. I’m going to be totally alone.

You know how Greta and I have been seeing each other…

Oh no. My heart raced. He looked everywhere in the room except in my eyes. That’s when I put my spoon down, too.

Yeah…?

Ellie… His eyes finally lighted on mine.

But before he could get his words out, I saw the ball of ice cream perched on the side of the boy’s cone like a high-diver getting ready to plummet into the water. His mom still was immobilized by technology, oblivious to the impending ice-cream crisis. Before the chocolate committed suicide on the table—or worse yet, the floor—I slid my bowl beneath it just in time to catch the bungee-jumping dessert. The boy’s eyes widened for a moment, then he looked at me and smiled. I handed him an extra spoon before returning to whatever it was my dad had to tell me.

You were saying?

Greta and I are getting married.

I must have looked at him like he was a deranged werewolf or someone who just sprouted wings because he seemed to wait for a reaction. That’s when I blurted it out.

Married? I knew I said it too loudly when everyone in the place, including the boy and now his mother, looked over at me. But I guess I didn’t care because I kept on with it. You can’t get married!

Pumpkin…

You can’t, dad! You just can’t! I threw an elementary-school temper tantrum.

Maybe we should go. He started collecting napkins and his paper cup, then he stood to leave.

I grabbed him with my whisper. Dad?

He hesitated.

What about mom?

He sat back down, leaning in closely and touching my arm.

Ellie…

She’s coming back, I nearly yelled while shoving his hand away.

In time you’ll learn to love Greta. I know it.

He knew it? Well, my synaptic connections said otherwise. The one thing I did know was that Greta was going to take my dad away from me. And it wasn’t going to happen without a fight.

I can name that tune in four notes.

Hmm hmmmmm… hmm hmm…

You always hum that one. It’s John Denver again, I said.

But which one?

The sunshine song.

"It’s called Sunshine on My Shoulders," he insisted.

We lay on our backs, staring at the stars through the open ceiling of my tent, which was pitched in my backyard. Something we had done since we were eight years old. Chatting it up, eating junk food, looking for pictures in the stars. Sometimes we would pick out dragons or princesses and make up stories about them. Other times we would see things that reminded us of other things. For me, it was tulips and butterflies. For him, it was a baseball diamond or the shape of a heart.

There was no one else like Kyle. He was my best friend, my only friend. He was there for me when no one else was. He listened to my sad stories and my deepest thoughts. And I listened to his.

It was only recently that things started to change. I looked at him differently. I don’t know when it happened, but he got cute in ways that made my heart stammer. I suddenly realized that his eyes were as blue as peacock feathers. And he had a dimple in his right cheek that I hadn’t noticed before. So I could no longer tell him my dreams because suddenly he was in them. The thought of it made me blush, so I covered as best as I could.

Okay, my turn. I reached into my song bank for a real puzzler.

Listen, Lily.

He was the only person who still was allowed to call me Lily. Everyone else called me Ellie.

I’ve been thinking. He continued to look out at the sky. We’re both fifteen now. Don’t you think we’re too old for this?

I sat up. You mean for Twinkies and Twizzlers? But I knew that wasn’t what he meant.

He sat up and shook his head. "No. For this." He looked around the tent.

He couldn’t be saying what I thought he was saying or telling me this was the end. Not after seven years. But I knew. I just knew. It was like a high school divorce, except for the fact that we weren’t married, much less ever even kissed. Though I can’t say I hadn’t considered kissing him lately.

Out of nowhere, water pooled in my eyes. I held it there, not wanting Kyle to see me cry. I was afraid to blink for fear the tears would stream down my face, making puddles on the canvas. Strings of sadness wound themselves around my vocal cords; I couldn’t speak, so I simply shook my head.

I’m sorry, Lily. I can’t do this anymore.

I loosened my throat from the grip of sadness. Why not?

It was fun when we were kids, but we’re not kids anymore.

Then even the absence of a blink wouldn’t dam the tears. They snaked down my face.

Oh, don’t cry.

I stared at the walls, the half-eaten junk food, and the blackening sky.

I’m not crying about that.

Then what are you crying about?

Nothing.

Come on, you can tell me, Kyle said. But obviously I couldn’t. In a matter of moments, everything had changed between us. I became acutely aware of Kyle’s hand resting on my arm and worked hard to ignore it. I tried to connect the dots of the stars, but there was no picture that night. It looked like a blank canvas with nobody out there but me.

It doesn’t matter anyway, I said, taking in a deep breath.

I took one more glance skyward and noticed a shooting star arcing across the inky atmosphere. I fingered the touchstone of my charm bracelet and made a wish that the talisman would finally work.

Kyle went home early with nothing resolved between us. Really, what is there to say when your best friend dumps you? So I stomped into the house and slammed the door.

"Too old for this," I mumbled to myself. I’ll give him too old for this," I fished for something in the refrigerator.

Everything all right? I heard my dad’s voice over the television set. I glanced over my shoulder to see his arm draped around her shoulders. I wished for once that she would go home at a decent hour instead of encroaching on our family time. I gave the produce bin a good wallop.

Fine, I muttered through gritted teeth.

I ventured over to the pantry, mussing up the order of the canned goods and boxed pastas. Definitely her doing. Dad was never that organized. "Can’t do this anymore. What does that mean? I’ll show him can’t do this anymore."

You say something, Pumpkin?

No. I stationed myself at the kitchen table, armed with peanut butter and a Hershey bar. I scooted out the chair and dropped into it, propping my feet up. Just as I readied myself to dip the chocolate into the peanut butter and drown my sorrows, I spied a Babies R Us catalogue amidst her pile of design magazines.

Don’t tell me she wants to have a baby now! I uttered a little too loudly. In a huff, I screwed the jar back onto the peanut butter, my appetite clearly ruined. When I glanced up, both of them stared at me over the back of the couch.

What? I barked defensively.

Something you want to talk about? my dad asked.

No.

Babies R Us. Greta always explained the catalogues away. Baby showers for friends and family. But, really, how many showers could there possibly be? She tucked stacks of those crazy catalogues under her arms like a nerd with the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Who was she kidding? She and my dad hadn’t even taken a trip down the aisle and signed marriage papers, and she was looking to have a miniature version of herself.

Laying eyes on the baby stuff only served to remind me that maybe some memories could be wiped away like sidewalk chalk. There was no other explanation for him being with her—asking her to marry him—except that he had forgotten, that he had given up hope.

Where’s Kyle? my dad asked, pulling me back to the agonizing truth of my reality.

Who knows. I pushed out my chair—which scraped across the floor—and I dumped the food back in the fridge. Then I whizzed past them both and stormed off to my room.

I pulled the tattered atlas from the bookshelf and threw myself onto the bed. The page opened easily to the map of the whole United States. I studied it, wondering where someone would go if she wanted to get away from this place. There were so many states, so many places. I shuffled through the pages. Wyoming looked nice. I spotted the markings for Devil’s Tower and Yellowstone. Then there were the Tetons and a little town named Moose.

A light rap sounded on the door. The pages hit each other with a loud smack. I shoved the atlas under the bed and fell back onto my bed.

Ellie? It was her voice. Wanna talk?

Pu-lease. To her? She had to be kidding. I breathed a heavy sigh, hoping she’d go away.

I used to pretend to sleep when I was mad, too.

So what! She was like me now? Whatever.

Will you please just go away! I finally said while clutching my pillow tightly to my chest.

There was a pause. Sure. Just when I thought she’d left, Greta spoke again. I’d really like us to be a family.

I sat upright on the bed, steaming at her now.

"My dad and I were a family until you came along. Now go away!" I threw the pillow at the door for added effect. I suspected she stayed there for a few more moments, then I heard her footsteps creep back down the hallway. She wasn’t my mother. She never would be.

I snatched my Magic Eight Ball from the nightstand. Will my mom ever come back? I asked it and gave it a shake.

I glanced at the transparent window for my answer: Cannot predict now.

But she needed to come back. Before the wedding.

Chapter Two

I sat at the table playing with the charms on my bracelet while Claire stood over the sink peeling silk from ears of corn.

Where would she have gone? I asked, glancing up for a moment.

Claire stopped what she was doing and turned to look at me. I don’t know, Ellie. She never told me.

But if you had to guess, I said, touching the star charm.

I don’t know, Claire said, holding an ear of corn. Maybe California. She loved the beach.

California, I repeated to myself like a mantra.

But she could be anywhere, hon. Claire eyed me with sympathy. Florida, Mexico. I wish I could tell you.

Claire was Kyle’s mom. But she was also my mom’s best friend before everything changed. So, in many ways, Claire felt like a surrogate. At least until my own mother decided to return. Claire knew things no one else did, including things my dad didn’t know. Like how my mom loved to watch sappy romance movies and had a secret celebrity crush on Bill Pullman. She told me how my parents met in a college literature class where my dad knew absolutely nothing about the subject matter. The only thing that kept him there was my mom.

So even though it wasn’t my kitchen, I felt more at home there than at my own house. Especially since Greta had taken over. I knew where the silverware was stored, where the glasses were, and that there was a secret stash of chocolate chips over the refrigerator. It was very familiar, very comfortable.

Hey, Claire suddenly said, are you ready for school tomorrow?

I guess.

I scanned the neighboring family room for signs of Kyle: a baseball cap, a mitt, a t-shirt, or an abandoned bottle of Gatorade.

Nothing.

"So Kyle really went to the mall, huh?

Yeah, Claire said, paying me a sympathetic glance.

The mall? Since when does Kyle Andrew Stirling go to the mall? I thought. Is he buying a new baseball cap or something?

She rested her hand on my head and smiled. A movie.

By himself? I gave up on my charms and shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

He told me about your…disagreement. I’m sorry. I know he didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.

Did he say that?

I just know him, Ellie. He’d never want to hurt you.

So Claire was putting words into his mouth. Maybe he didn’t mean to upset me, but it was beyond painful to know that we would never again camp out in the backyard. It ripped up my insides to know that things weren’t the same as before. And my heart broke into little pieces because he didn’t feel about me the way I felt about him.

I felt it in my bones: change was no good. Things should remain the same because once they’re gone, they’re gone for good. Kyle and I would never be nine, ten, eleven years old again. The era of Name That Tune was over. We’d never share secrets or a first kiss together. Finding pictures in the stars would be a lonely endeavor from now on. All those things would be only memories that would slowly fade away. Change. I hated it.

He loves you like a sister, Ellie.

A sister? That’s the last thing I wanted to be. Friend maybe. But not a sister. Never a sister.

I guess being fifteen, people might think it’s kind of strange we still camp out together. I stood to help Claire, placing two ice cubes in the aluminum foil and wrapping an ear of corn.

Well, you have a good attitude about it.

Yes, except that I didn’t actually believe what I was saying.

Did he go by himself?

Claire stopped all food preparation, turned, and sent me a sympathetic look.

He went with a friend.

I thought that’s what I was supposed to be. Her pathetic expression told me he went with a girl. But who? Tiffany Sheldon? Kimberly Jessup? I seethed at the thought of Kyle with either of them and their long blonde hair and cheerleader grins.

Claire turned and hammered away at the steak with a meat tenderizer. Actually, I think they may have gone shopping for baseball caps.

Claire wasn’t a good liar.

Kyle showed up to dinner as Claire and I set the table. I didn’t see any bag with a new baseball hat. But what I did see was Kyle in a button-down shirt with a collar—something he only wore to church or on special occasions. It was the kind of shirt we made fun of on boys when they wore them outside of church or a special occasion. The kind of shirt Buddy Dale and Xavier Hammond, last year’s outcasts, wore on a daily basis.

When Kyle spotted me, his cheeks pinked in embarrassment. He looked like he was trapped in a lie or caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

Hey, Lily.

He went about his business like I was some kind of fixture. I hoped he felt guilty about having fun without me and for wearing that stupid, buttoned-down, checkered, collared shirt. I should have made fun of him. Instead, I finished folding the last napkin, then grabbed my mailbox key from the counter.

I better get going.

You’re not staying for dinner? Claire asked.

No. I stared pointedly at Kyle. I think my dad has some special thing planned.

Oh yeah? Claire perked up.

Yeah. Some engagement thing. I made sure Kyle was listening.

Engagement? Claire asked, the creases in her facing showing concern. She stopped in the middle of setting silverware. Kyle’s eyes widened in shock. He finally looked at me.

Apparently, he and Greta are getting married, I said.

I had no idea. Claire appeared more concerned than happy.

I thought I mentioned it to Kyle. Though I knew I hadn’t.

Claire whirled around on him. Kyle? Her tone was accusatory.

She didn’t say anything. He glanced at me. You didn’t say anything.

I tried to be nonchalant. I thought I did. I made like I was going to leave, then turned to Kyle for added effect. Hey, maybe you could wear that shirt to the wedding.

I shuffled home and pulled an electric bill and some weekly flyers from the mailbox. There was nothing addressed to me. No packages, no letters, not even a credit card application. Nothing from her. And there was no celebration at home either. Dad and Greta were out to dinner to mark their engagement. I was invited, but I chose to bail instead.

It had been five years since she had left. Any teenager in her right mind would give up hope. For some reason, hope was one of the only things I had. One night, she was tapping on my bedroom door, poking her head in to say goodnight; the next morning, she was gone. And she never came back. When she left, she took the things that I’d remember her by: like perfume, and her favorite dangly earrings that went with none of her outfits, and pictures. It was as though she erased herself from her place in our lives. She took everything that was important. With one exception: memories. No matter how hard she tried, they were the things she could never rub out.

As I studied the innards of an empty refrigerator, I wished I had made a choice that involved eating. But I was as stubborn as a mule. However, even stubborn mules get to eat sometimes. Stubborn teenagers, on the other hand, starve. I crawled into bed on the eve of my first day of Sophomore year. I grabbed my Magic Eight Ball, twisting it in my hands. Will this be a good year? I asked it.

Outlook good, it read. I shook it, certain it had heard me wrong or had some kind of internal defect. I set it down and fingered my bracelet, touching my two charms and the space on it that still remained charm-free, waiting to be filled. My stomach was growling, and I had no clue when my dad would be home. Didn’t seem as though the outlook was so good.

Chapter Three

Warner High School was a madhouse on the first day of school. Lockers slammed, voices boomed, students pushed and shoved. It seemed no different than Freshman year. Most kids still towered over me as I navigated the hallways with my schedule in hand and my lost look, trying to find my homeroom. You’d think I would know where I was going, but I felt all discombobulated and out-of-sorts. My paper read room 149, which should logically come after 147 or 148, but those rooms were nowhere to be found. And the clock was ticking. Only four more minutes until the bell was to ring.

Just then, a boy slammed into me, rushing away without even the