Skeleton Park

By Christina Smith

Avery is running: from her past, from her friends and family, and from her memories. But she doesn’t have a choice. It was her mother that made the decision to whisk her away from the only home she had ever known. It was her mother’s idea to move to Canada after a terrible tragedy that shook their happy existence. She chose a place where they can be safe and at peace, a place where nothing bad ever happens.
Could Avery have changed her mom’s mind and stayed with her friends? Probably. Did she want to? No.
Avery needed to forget her old life in Renwood, New York. It was there that her world changed in an instant and she could never look back.
In her new city, they find a beautiful house in a great neighborhood next to a spacious, scenic park. They can’t believe their luck at having found the perfect place on such short notice and the price was simply too good to pass up.
When Avery starts to settle into her new surroundings she meets new friends and a guy that might just help her move on. She couldn’t be happier of the choice to make such a drastic change. There are no reminders of her past and she is adjusting faster than she ever thought she could.
Life is perfect. Or is it? What Avery and her mother didn’t realize is that running from one evil had only led them to another. After all, when something sounds too good to be true...it probably is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christina Smith
• Release date: Jul 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311384478

Christina Smith

She is a wife and mother, who lives in a small rural town in Ontario Canada where she spends most of her free time writing.She has always loved to read, but didn't realize she could write until a few years ago. She has told stories her whole life, but never thought to write them down.She took a novel writing course at Winghill writing school, and since then has written four books. Two are finished, the others are being edited.Her book Fated Dreams was named Semi-Finaliast in the 2011 Textnovel writing Contest.

Book preview

Chapter One

Now

A high-pitched shriek pierced through my foggy brain and I jumped in my seat. The low purr of the engine had been lulling me into a zombie-like daze, but the horrible sound that was continually haunting my mind for the last week wouldn’t let up. It was a constant reminder of what I had escaped. Not that I needed one; the guilt was all consuming, in my every thought.

Are you all right, Avery? my mother asked from the seat beside me, her long black hair flapping in the wind like a crow’s wing. Her question was one she repeated almost hourly. Just because I chose not to discuss what happened didn’t mean there was something wrong. I was fine; I just couldn’t say that about the people we left behind.

I blinked at her, the cloudiness ebbing from my brain and allowing me to focus on her concerned face. Yes, Mom. I told you, I’m all right. I couldn’t help the irritated edge in my voice. Any time she brought up my feelings, a wall as thick as the Hoover Damn would form in my mind and I would shut down. It wasn’t something I did consciously; it was simply self-preservation. I couldn’t let my emotions leak out again. I might not recover the next time.

Wrinkles formed at the corners of her mouth as she frowned worriedly at me. It was an expression I had seen often in the last few days. I know, honey, but I want to make sure we’re making the right decision.

We? I asked, my eyes wide with accusation as I crossed one cramped leg over the other. We had only been in the car for a few hours, but without shifting positions, my limbs felt like they were covered in cement and if I moved them too quickly they might shatter into thousands of tiny pieces.

Mom squeezed the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white as she slowed to make the turn off the highway and into our new city. "Yes, I made the decision. But if you didn’t want to leave, you could have said something."

It was her idea to leave our home in Renwood, New York. And I knew she would have listened to me, had I argued. But at the time, I just wanted to disappear. My whole world had shattered in one single moment and I honestly didn’t know if I would ever be the same. I had escaped a horrible fate and the memories plagued me. I needed to get away—to a place where nothing would remind me of that terrible day.

I sighed heavily, pushing those thoughts out of my mind and sinking into my leather seat. The bright, mid-afternoon sun shone in my eyes as I took in the sights around us. There were plazas on both sides of the street with multiple fast food restaurants flanked next to them. The area was jam-packed with stores, gas stations, coffee shops, and even a cinema. Cars streamed around the intersection like army ants marching in formation.

For some reason I was surprised at how busy the place was. I assumed it would be going at a slower pace. And I definitely didn’t expect so many people. It wasn’t all that different from the city we had left behind.

My friends said that we were running away, and maybe that was true. My mother and I had packed up our whole lives and moved right when we were needed the most. And not just to a different city or state—no, that wasn’t good enough. Mom had insisted we move to a different country.

She had done a lot of research before picking our new home in Canada, and—after some favors from friends—had gotten us all the paperwork we needed. The city she chose was a place called Kingston, Ontario. It was only three hours away from our former home, but once we drove over the border my previous address seemed like a world away. Mom had given me exactly four days to say goodbye to my friends and pack my belongings. She was so devastated by what happened and terrified that I wouldn’t be so lucky if there was a next time, that we were leaving before we even sold the house. Our real estate agent agreed to take care of everything and thanks to email and the Internet Mom could handle it from our new home.

We still had some money left from my father’s death fourteen years ago. He died in a car crash and left us quite a large insurance settlement, making it possible for us to pay for the new house before our old one sold. However, since we moved without even looking for a place to live, we were forced to stay in a hotel until we found one, which meant we were somewhat rushed.

~~

Pearl, the real estate agent Mom had been in contact with over the phone, met us in front of our hotel once we arrived. She was a short, stout woman, with a flowered blouse and a navy blue pencil skirt exposing stocky pale legs. Her mousy brown hair resembled a helmet, but her eyes were sharp as razor blades. Once we made all the introductions, we climbed into her vehicle, planning to check into our room after viewing a few houses.

The next couple of hours were plagued with one disappointment after another. The first house she showed us smelled of cat urine, while the next two weren’t available for months. When Mom asked to be shown houses that were available now or in a week or two, we were forced to call it a day. None of the showings Pearl had prepared would work. Since we were in a new city, in a different country, without knowing a single soul, I wanted the house we chose to be perfect. If I was going to hide from everyone and everything I once knew, I needed to love my new sanctuary. I was sure the perfect house was out there, we just had to find it. Disappointed with the day’s results, we were dropped off at our hotel a lot sooner than we had hoped.

~~

This is it. My mom’s voice was cheerful as she pushed open the door of our hotel room. Our home, until we can find a better one. It would also be where she worked. Mom was a graphic designer and could do it anywhere. She specialized in book covers and made a pretty decent living.

Our room was cozy and consisted of two double beds with matching maroon blankets. There was a dresser, a desk, and a TV. Unfortunately the smell of pineapple permeated the room. I hated pineapple. But this was it, home sweet home until we could find something more permanent.

Why don’t we unpack and then freshen up before we venture out for dinner?

I hefted my suitcase onto one of the beds, making the mattress bounce, and nodded. Sounds good to me.

Once we had both shoved all our clothes into the closet and dresser, we took turns in the shower to wash away the long drive over the border before heading out to eat.

My mom’s phone rang as soon as we let ourselves back into the room a few hours later. It was Pearl, informing her that she found a house that was available now in the downtown area.

I fell asleep that night listening to the hum of the mini fridge and the tap, tap of my mother’s laptop keyboard as she corresponded with clients.

~~

The alarm screeched as if from a distance. I pounded the sleep button and drifted back to oblivion. I needed the silence. After my fight with Caleb, I had cried all night, and my mind wouldn’t turn off until the wee hours of the morning. How could he do that to me? I loved him.

"Ave, what are you still doing here?" my mom yelled, yanking me out of my much needed slumber.

I jolted into a sitting position, instantly regretting the movement. Holding my dizzy head I mumbled, What time is it?

"It’s seven thirty. You’re going to be late. You look sick though. Maybe you should stay home."

I shook my head as I crawled out of bed, Caleb’s chiseled face and big chocolate brown eyes ever present in my mind. His hurtful words still echoed in my ears. I can’t, I have a test in English today.

Mom turned away, but stopped in the doorway. Hurry up then.

I jumped up in bed with my heart hammering in my chest, the images of that day still hovering over me like a dark shadow threatening to surround me.

Good morning, honey. Mom stood in the corner of the hotel room. She was dressed in a violet sleeveless top and light linen pants. Her inky black hair was hanging loose, falling over her shoulders. I looked a lot like her. We shared the same color and length of hair but while hers was straight and silky, mine resembled a poodle. I inherited my curly hair from my dad, who I barely remembered.

Mom had been smiling, but when she took me in, her expression was lined with concern. Are you okay? she asked, taking a step toward me.

I glanced around the room, trying to shake off the dream and get my bearings. I took a deep breath once I remembered our situation. We were in a different city, about to go out to look for a new home. We were starting over. I just wished my mind would let me. I forced a smile to reassure her. I’m fine, Mom. I just forgot where we were. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but I couldn’t tell her what really upset me. I wasn’t ready to face what had happened. So instead, I yanked the blanket off and rushed into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

I heard her sigh tiredly as I closed the door behind me.

Once I was finished showering, we headed out.

~~

Instead of picking us up, Pearl gave us directions for us to meet her. She had only found one place that fit our time restraint, which meant she needed to look for more after we checked out the first house. The street the house was located on ran parallel to a park. The park was the size of a city block, with a playground and a small basketball court. There were also a few benches and picnic tables scattered along the well-manicured grass. Children of various ages were laughing and running around, enjoying the sunny Saturday afternoon.

What do you think? Pearl asked us. She was dressed in a gray pant suit, with a fluorescent orange frilly blouse sticking out at the collar.

I glanced wearily at the park, unsure if I wanted to live so close to noisy kids, and then looked behind Pearl. The house she was pointing at was a red-brick two-story. It was old—I could tell from the aged stone on the surface—but it appeared to be well taken care of. A huge red maple tree practically filled the whole front yard, hiding the large bay window in the front of the house.

Pearl climbed the steps, leaned on the wrought iron railing, and waited as we filed behind her. When we were positioned on the porch, she pushed open the door—to our new home. I knew it was It as soon as I peered inside. Yes, the structure was old, but the kitchen and living room held so much character, it was definitely worth it.

Wow, my mother gasped, as she stepped over the threshold. Her heels clicked over the copper-colored ceramic tiles and echoed in the empty room as she made her way to the living area, gazing up at the high-beamed cathedral ceiling.

This one is definitely ready any time. The owners are desperate to sell before the twenty-seventh, Pearl supplied, while we studied our surroundings.

What’s the twenty-seventh? my mom asked absently, running her fingers over the built-in shelving over the fireplace.

Pearl’s face paled as she visibly swallowed. Uh…just the closing of their new house.

I was about to ask why the furniture was gone if their new house hadn’t closed yet, but I lost interest as I glanced around the roomy kitchen. The ivory cupboards were L-shaped with a breakfast bar on the end.

I love it, I whispered, wandering up the stairs. There were two large rooms and a smaller one that Mom could use for an office. Unfortunately, I could only see one bathroom, but it was roomy and featured a Jacuzzi tub. The smaller of the two rooms, which would be mine, faced the park. Through the lush trees, I had a view of bits and pieces of the playground and a few benches.

What do you think? my mom asked from the doorway.

My eyes were fixed out the window when I answered her. This is it. Our sanctuary. I spun around to face her. Don’t you think?

She grinned widely and nodded her head. And it’s a steal, a lot cheaper than the others.

Why? I wondered out loud. Yes, this house was older, but it was closer to the city. I was pretty sure Pearl had mentioned in one of her long spiels yesterday about real estate in Kingston, that it meant it would be more expensive.

She shrugged. I’m not sure. Pearl just said that the owners were desperate. They want to sell immediately.

For some reason her explanation made me uneasy. But since I couldn’t explain why, I ignored it and returned my mother’s mile-wide grin. The gesture felt foreign on my face, like I wasn’t worthy of happiness. But I pushed through those feelings and forced myself to enjoy the moment. The house was perfect; I just couldn’t explain why.

That’s great, I exclaimed, sharing my mom’s excitement despite my wariness.

She rushed forward, flinging her arms around me. Her touch soothed some of the ache that still lingered in my heart. I hadn’t allowed her to hug me in a week. But at the moment, it felt good, like this was our chance to start over. We were in a new house, new city, in a different country. There were no memories here. I could forget the horrible event. With nothing around to remind me of that day, I could push the awful images to the back of my mind and hopefully, the pain that crept into my heart would eventually fade. With that thought, I returned my mother’s hug, breathing in her comforting scent, ignoring the feeling of guilt that was always hovering in my mind.

Chapter Two

A week later we were in our very empty house waiting for the moving van to show up. We had been here all day getting ready for the rest of our stuff. But it only took so long to unpack the four suitcases and three boxes that we had lugged in the car from home. We also had two coolers with food we’d been eating out of from our hotel room. We ate takeout Chinese on the floor of the living room. Once our lunch containers were tidied up, we cleaned out all the cupboards and the bathroom and even mopped the floors with the cleaning products Mom had picked up. Now, we were out of things to do.

My mom had finally gotten hold of the movers and was told they had been held up at customs, but should be arriving anytime. While Mom wore a path on the lawn from her constant pacing, I was across the road at the park. I had found a spot on the ground, leaning against a cold, cement monument, and was drawing a spooky-looking oak tree in my sketch pad. The limbs stretched out from the trunk like skeletal arms reaching up to the pale blue sky. While the rest of the trees in the park were filled with bright green leaves, this one was bare, exposing the bent and twisted branches that slightly resembled bony fingers. Even the bark was missing, like a cob of corn husked and tossed away. The trunk was mostly gray, but was starting to turn white in certain spots. It was the oddest tree I had ever seen and I wondered why the city officials, or whoever took care of the park, didn’t cut it down. It was obviously dead.

Besides a family with four kids, and a woman with a baby, the only other person around was a tall guy about my age. Despite the hot sun that was glaring down from above us, he was wearing jeans and a green army jacket. He was hovering over a golden plaque that was secured to a marble slab. As if he could sense me watching him, he looked up and met my gaze. His emerald green eyes fixed to mine.

Embarrassed at being caught watching him, I quickly looked back down at my partially drawn picture. I rubbed my pointer finger over the trunk of the tree I had just drawn, shading it to appear more realistic.

Despite the heat from the late afternoon sun, I was cool. The trees around me provided plenty of shade to block out the heated rays. The gentle wind brushed my cheeks and ruffled my black hair while it hung over my face as I drew. I loved drawing. I had been doing it since I was a kid. At first I did it for fun, but now it was almost a compulsion. The only time I hadn’t had a sketch pad and pencil on me was during the last week. This morning was the first time I had picked them up since It happened. I knew the only reason I was able to was because I was away from all the memories. As I glanced around the park on that very relaxing Saturday afternoon, I felt almost at peace for the first time in fifteen days.

A loud screech pierced through the bubble of contentment around me and I glanced to my left to see what the noise was. It was the brakes of a big, white truck covered in a haze of dirt along both sides that darkened toward the back corners like wings. The moving van was finally here. I shoved my pencil and pad in my bag and jumped up, feeling a little anxious about unpacking our belongings. Would bringing pieces of our old life to our new one take away that tiny bit of contentment I had been feeling?

Just as I was about to cross the road to join my mom, I peeked behind me for one more glance at the green-eyed boy, but he was gone. The spot by the plaque was empty.

~~

It only took two hours to transfer everything that made us who we were from the back of a truck to the new house. When the movers left, we stood in the cluttered living room and glanced around at all the unopened boxes. There was so much to do; we didn’t know where to begin.

After staring at the piles of cardboard for several minutes in silence, my mother turned to me. Pizza? Her hair was up in a messy bun and a stray strand fell into her soft blue eyes.

I nodded my head enthusiastically before following her to the door.

~~

We found a small pizza place downtown called Bubba’s and sat in the cramped restaurant to eat our dinner.

So…are you ready to go back and get to work? my mom asked, when she finished her own meal, tossing the pizza crust onto her tray, the lump of dough landing on a puddle of brown liquid from the iced tea she had spilt earlier.

I guess so. My plate and soda were empty, but the thought of all the work waiting for us at home made me want to order another slice just to put it off.

As she slid her purse strap onto her shoulder, she tilted her head at me, a look of compassion and worry flitting across her face. Are you having second thoughts? She meant about the move. And even if I was, wasn’t it too late? We had already bought a house and all our stuff was inside of it waiting to be unpacked.

I glanced down at the tabletop, biting my lip and digging my finger in a crack in the wood. I barely noticed when a small wood sliver stabbed my fingertip. No. I’m…

Worried that unpacking your old stuff will bring back memories you’re trying to avoid?

So, my mother was a closeted psychiatrist. Who knew? I’m fine, I muttered, as the wall I constantly erected in my mind took shape. A crack had formed in the carefully constructed structure for a split second and she had taken that chance to analyze me. I couldn’t let her do it again. I knew what would happen if it tumbled down—my mind would crumble with it.

I stood up, carrying my cardboard dish, shoved it into the trash can and rushed out of the restaurant.

I stood in the street, the warm evening breeze washing over me as I gained control of myself. My breath came out in gasps, my heart pounding in my chest. The images were threatening to break free and I couldn’t allow it. I took a deep, slow breath and pictured a dam; the rapid, raging water crashing against the barrier became the emotions I held back. It was a necessary move to keep my sanity. I had lost it once and I wouldn’t lose it again. Gradually my labored breathing slowed, and my heart steadied in my chest. I took another deep breath and listened to the music that floated in the early summer air from a dance club up the block and some more from behind me. By the time my mom emerged through the door, my episode was once again under control. Together, we walked to her car, her questions in the pizza place forgotten.

Over the sound of our footsteps hitting the pavement, I could hear applause and laughter. I had a sinking feeling I knew where that was coming from. When we had left our house earlier, crowds of people had begun filling the park next to us. When I asked my mother what was going on, she said that Pearl had mentioned to her that there were some people gathering at the park for a rally tonight. So much for my peaceful sanctuary.

Even though I suspected what was happening, I was still surprised at what we saw when we turned onto our street. So many cars were lined up with only a few feet between them I thought of my dad’s old dominoes. I used to take them out and try to picture him using them. Since I was three when he died, I didn’t have any memories, so I tried to force some. It never worked.

The street was so crowded as we cruised past, our car’s tires scraped against the curb while Mom swerved around a large black SUV. When she was finally able to pull into our driveway, I got out and turned around. The park was teeming with people chanting, "Let them go!" I didn’t understand what their words meant and I really didn’t care. I wasn’t in the mood for a gathering.

As I turned to follow Mom into the house, I felt the heat of someone watching me. When I gazed over my shoulder, I saw the guy with the emerald eyes. He wasn’t at the marble stone this time. Now he was leaning on the same monument I had been sitting against earlier…and he was watching me. When he saw me look at him, he smiled. I tipped my lips upward faintly. It was all I could manage before I spun back around, rushing into the house behind my mother.

The rally lasted late into the night, the noise providing the background as we unpacked the kitchen and then our bedrooms. Finally we went to bed, only I didn’t sleep. Instead, I lay on my bed staring up at the stippled ceiling listening to the voices drifting in from my window. The low drone of conversation eventually lulled me into a deep slumber.

~~

The heels of my knee-high boots clicked against the linoleum floor as I ran to class. I was late for first period English and I blamed Caleb Nichols: after a year together, he dumped me. Despite getting ready in record time and having the quickest shower in history, I had still pulled up to the school ten minutes late. Mrs. Robertson had taken her time writing out a late slip, and then I bumped into a boy, knocking his books to the ground. My day was not starting out well, and on top of everything else, I was worried about running into Caleb.

The sound of a door slamming echoed through the corridor. As I got closer to my destination I heard the slamming of another. When I turned the corner into the hallway that led to my class, the sound came again. All the hair on my arms stood on end. What was going on?

I sucked in a deep breath as I jerked awake, yanking myself from the dream. I jolted up in bed and rubbed my eyes. I hadn’t been sleeping very much lately; nightmares and imaginary sounds had been keeping me restless. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, I crawled out of bed and sat down on the window seat with my sketch pad in my lap. I gazed out at the now empty park before focusing on a blank sheet of paper. I took a deep breath and began to draw; the only light was from the street lamps outside my window. I didn’t know what I was drawing; I just let my fingers go. But I wasn’t surprised when the outline of a face appeared and then thick messy hair. A few minutes later I was staring into the dark eyes of an awkward teen.

Before I could make my mind form any more depressing thoughts, I was turning the page to a fresh one and my pencil was moving over the paper. It was like my fingers were possessed with a mind of their own. But again, when my fingers stilled, I wasn’t surprised at the image. I saw her every morning; her bright smile and her melodic voice woke us up as she read to us from Shakespeare. Miss Adams was young for a teacher and as far as I knew wasn’t married and didn’t have any children. I allowed a few seconds to gaze at the picture and then I turned it, knowing what would come next: another person I hadn’t allowed myself to say goodbye to. I’d just left without a word and I wasn’t sure if I

Reviews for Skeleton Park

[CHRISTINA HOOD · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Good Lord that was awful, the first book in years I stopped reading several pages before the end.