13 Ways to Midnight (The Midnight Saga) Page 3

  I toyed with the plastic bottle in my jacket pocket. I pulled it out and jiggled it in front of my face. I could see two small white pills jostling back and forth. It was all the medication that I had left and the only thing that kept the nightmares away when I slept at night. I had made a conscious decision to try to break myself of this habit, and it scared me, but this, this scared me more than anything else had.

  I had been enrolled in Port Royal High School, home of the Buccaneers.

  A school with people in it.

  Teenagers.

  I was terrified but excited all the same, which was weird for me. Oddly enough I said yes to this just as I had that night when my sister woke me up. This felt like something she would do and instead of skipping out on an adventure, as I’m known to do, I took the metaphorical bull by the horns.

  A masculine voice interrupted my thoughts and brought me back to reality. “We’ve arrived.” He said calmly, then added a bit more. “The bill has been sorted.”

  The window fogged over and my green, sometimes hazel eyes, landed on my cab drivers. He was turned in his seat and staring at me. I couldn’t tell if he was curious or overtly compassionate.

  I guess it didn’t matter.

  It’s strange after you experience a loss like my family had. Every look, every word seems different when spoken by strangers. It’s almost as if the whole world knows you’re in pain and is trying desperately to deal with it without mentioning the obvious. It makes my already awkward nature downright alien. I never felt like I fit in, but now, I don’t even fit into the world. I can imagine myself in the distant future, old and alone, sheltering fifty-five cats and shooing children off my porch with a broom as my carefully selected feline army lined up behind me.

  “Miss?” he added, and I blinked as the visual of my crazy cat lady future dissipated.

  “Thank you,” I said politely, firmly gripping the handle and opening the door. He rushed out and popped a large black umbrella above our heads, sheltering me from the rain.

  “Here, you take this. I have many.”

  His English was broken. He may be Serbian, from what I could tell. I’m pretty good at nailing accents.

  I glanced up at the gray sky. “No Sun?” I asked with traces of sarcasm in my tone. He laughed and tilted his chiseled chin upward, shaking his head in defeat. “If you want sunlight, you have to travel south, down the coast to Crow’s Landing. There you will find the sun if you go up into their mountains. A Beautiful sight, indeed. Just beautiful.”

  I sighed. “I’m not really into hiking of any sort.”

  “No? The daughter of Alice and Peter Navarri does not like adventure?”

  I hated the question but answered it just the same. “You know how they say the nut doesn’t fall very far from the tree?” He looked confused. “Well, I hit the ground and rolled, like rolled for miles.” He had no idea what I meant, so I reeled in my elaborate explanation. “No, I like to read and stay inside, shocking, I know, seeing that my parents are probably dangling from the side of a cliff right now.”

  He handed me the umbrella and ran to the back of the car with a chuckle echoing along the way. I’m glad I could amuse him.

  He opened the trunk and pulled out my red suitcase and walked it back to me. The handle left his hand with ease and rested in mine. I gave it a gentle shake.

  Everything I cared about was in the suitcase. Sweatshirts, t-shirts, a pair of jeans, leggings, three pairs of shoes, some pictures, and my books.

  I like to travel light, no need to bog yourself down with unnecessary clutter.

  That’s my mom talking, but I agree with her.

  He opened his car door. I parted my lips, desperate to continue our conversation. “So, you said Crow’s Landing is sunny? How far is it from here?”

  He rubbed the gray and black stubble on his chin with his weathered hand and then spoke with confidence. “Don’t tell me you’re already planning your escape.”

  “I wish I were Houdini, but I’m not,” I muttered under my breath.

  He narrowed his eyes as the rain rolled down his forehead, and dripped from his broad brow.

  “Magician, no?” he asked.

  I nodded to him and refused to face the house. “I’m sorry, but...” he reached for the door, and I had to move because I was blocking his way. He paused and looked me over and then offered a quick smile. “You’ll be okay. Embrace the journey, little one.”

  His door close and the cab pulled away. I looked up and gave the umbrella a gentle twist in the palm of my hand. Rain spun off of it in a circular pattern all around me, breaking through the downpour.

  Then it hit me, although convenient, it wasn’t mine. “Oh wait! Your umbrella!” I called out to the man, wanting to return his generous gift.

  I began to jog along the sidewalk, but he was gone and around the corner before I could trick him into any more small talk.

  I took two steps back and begrudgingly turned around, making my way back up the sidewalk, which sat on an incline. I could feel the strain in my calf muscles, and it only reminded me of how lazy I had been while the rest of my family hiked the countryside and repelled into caverns.

  I paused at the tall black gates and tilted my head back. Lightning streaked the sky behind me and lit up the name over the gate in quick bursts. Navarri was written out in bold letters, big enough to appear dramatic.

  I sighed and thought of my Aunt Luna. She was my dad’s sister, his only sibling, and keeper of the house that they both grew up in. She lived here all alone. My grandparents had long since been buried in the town’s cemetery in the family mausoleum, claimed by another accident, only this one involved a boat and a terrible storm at sea. Again, no bodies were ever recovered, and I couldn’t imagine how hard that was for my dad to not only bury his parents in empty coffins but his daughter, too.

  I reached out and pushed on the cold iron. It swung open without much effort, but let out an eerie creaking noise that matched the dark skies and abundant rain. I made my way up the wide path, lined with knee-high shrubbery that looked to be needing some attention. Maybe I could help Aunt Luna in this way. I assume she doesn’t have a green thumb and that’s one thing that I could do. I could grow things where no one else in my family seems to be able to accomplish with any luck.

  I stopped in front of the steps and gave my red suitcase one more firm shake. Pumping myself up with a small, but adequate pep talk.

  “Go, just go, Echo Midnight Navarri,” I whispered with borrowed confidence. Yes, I have my sister’s name as my middle name, just as she had mine, as hers. My parents must have felt very clever the night we were born, or maybe they just couldn’t think of any other names to give us.

  My right foot hit the first step and the front door opened as if on cue. I could see a shadow moving forward. The sky groaned and lit up like a strobe light, and forced me to flinch. My Aunt’s soft features, large brown eyes, and thick curly auburn hair came into view. She clapped her hands together and rushed toward me, snatching the suitcase right out of my death grip, hugging me so hard the umbrella was forced back, allowing the rain to take advantage of the two of us. I grunted, and she backed up, rubbing my shoulders while the cold rain trickled down her face and over her pouty lips. She was beautiful, with a small round face, not rugged like my dad. His jaw was chiseled and firm but totally didn’t match his attitude. My mom was the serious one, while my father was easy going by nature.

  He had lost some of that charm when Midnight, well, you know.

  Loss does that. It twists everything inside of you and spews it back out in an unrecognizable heap of heightened apathy. It makes you long for the past and dread the future. Very similar to what my parents do for a living. I should want the same, but I don’t. I must be such a disappointment to them. I swallowed hard, happy to have the rain masking my glossy eyes.

  She laughed and snatche
d the umbrella in hand, forcing it upright to shield us. I blew on my long black bangs, and they barely moved on my face. I was completely drenched, and the chill was starting to settle in. My lip quivered, and my muscles tightened up in my legs. Partially due to the weather and the rest my overwhelming emotional state.

  “Oh, honey, come inside. I have a fire burning and hot chocolate on the stove.”

  I nodded to her as she wrapped one long arm around my shoulder and guided me into the house, shutting the door behind us and bringing one adventure to an end only to welcome in a new one.

  2

  I wrapped the blue and white plaid shawl around my shoulders, snuggling into its warmth and generosity. My aunt had graciously given it to me after I changed into my gray sweatshirt that hung off my right shoulder, fleece-lined black leggings with white and gray owls all over them, and my red, white, and black MUKLUK slippers. My absolute favorite and permanent fixture in my life. They were Midnights, so, of course, I would be lost without them.

  I wiggled my toes inside my slippers and adjusted the shawl, drawing it in just a little bit closer. I lifted the black coffee cup to my lips, reading it before I sipped on the hot chocolate. COFFEE READ WRITE REPEAT stared up at me from the side of the black cup. I took a deep breath and held the sweet aroma in my lungs. The homemade marshmallows bobbed on the surface. I slurped one into my mouth, and it exploded with flavor on my eager tongue. I cooed, and my aunt grinned, taking a slow sip of her own out of a matching cup, only hers was white with black lettering.

  This was the perfect remedy for a cold and rainy night. We were off to a great start, and it had calmed my nerves and helped me relax when I didn’t think it would be possible. Sometimes the smallest of things can do the greatest good.

  This house. My aunts smile. Hot chocolate and a roaring fire. All things I never considered to be catalysts for happiness, but I could love this, or learn to love it. Anything is better than misery and guilt. Anything.

  I lowered the cup and coddled it in my hands, allowing the heat to resonate through my fingers as I spoke up. “My mom and dad made hot chocolate sometimes, but they used real cocoa beans.”

  She carefully eyed me. “Chocolate should not be bitter; it’s a dessert for Hade’s sake. I swear, your father thinks fig newton’s and black licorice are desserts. I consider them punishment.”

  I chuckled and peered into the cup; she was right, he did. Then she said something that took me by surprise.

  “You’re so pretty, Echo. Just gorgeous, like your mother.”

  I felt my cheeks become flush. I’m not good with compliments. I consider myself very homely, especially in comparison to Midnight. My aunt leaned forward and finally I had to look at her to avoid appearing rude.

  “Thank you, but I’m not, I mean, I don’t think I’m pretty,” I responded as acceptingly as I could but made sure to taint it with my honest opinion about myself. I promise it isn’t for pity. I just don’t find it necessary. Every boy I ever found attractive lived within the pages of a book, so it wasn’t like they cared how I looked.

  So much simpler than real life.

  She set her cup down on the small table next to her large tan chair that matched my own. They sat at an angle in front of the enormous fireplace that could easily fit two people inside of it. This house still felt large, even now. When I was five it was enormous, nothing had changed. Don’t get me wrong; it didn’t have an unreasonable amount of things in it, but what it did have was just on a grander scale. Like the large clock in the entryway with the slow pendulum swinging from side to side, the elaborately framed paintings on the walls, and the black chandelier that rested high above our heads from a tin lined cathedral ceiling.

  “Both of you are exceptionally beautiful. You and your sister.” She added. Her words set me off while she practiced present tense and not past as if Midnight was still alive. I blinked and watched two young girls giggle and run across the room and out into the entryway. They moved in slow motion, ghostly white, clasping their hands together and doing circles around each other. Their long dark hair bounced on their shoulders, and their happiness filled that strange void in my heart. I thought the memories were lost, but no. They live on in my mind and this house, it seemed.

  “Well, tomorrow we need to take you shopping.”

  I blinked again, letting the ghosts of my past dissipate from view.

  “Shopping?” I asked with an inquisitive look on my face. Shopping wasn’t my thing, well honestly, most things aren’t my thing, especially that. I’m so easy when it comes to clothing. Comfort was key. That’s it. If it feels good, I wear it.

  She leaned back in her chair and pulled her feet up to one side, tucking them in and mimicking me. “Yes, for clothing.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I have clothes, I mean, I have a few.”

  She laughed, and it echoed in the room. Her lips pursed when I didn’t even crack a smile, and I watched as she tapped the side of her cup. “Oh, honey, T-shirts and leggings won’t do you any good, not here.”

  I set my cup on the table next to my chair, adjusting the shawl and wondering why my clothing wasn’t adequate. “I know that I don’t have much, so maybe a couple more pairs of jeans and some regular shirts would help. I’ve never been fashionable.”

  She smiled at me and placed her chin in her hand.

  I shook my head in confusion. “Maybe a hoodie, too?” I added.

  “You don’t know, do you?”

  My eyebrow cocked. “Know what?”

  “Sweetheart, Port Royal High School has a dress code, a very strict one.”

  “So, what does that mean? No t-shirts with bands on them or holes in my jeans? I can do that.”

  She let out a slow breath. “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you’ll need a uniform.”

  I shook my head from side to side while she gave me a nod to counteract my denial.

  “Oh, crap,” I muttered.

  “Yes, crap…but to be honest, it could be worse, Echo. The dress code is quite simple. Black coat, white shirt, black tie and then there’s the plaid skirt. Very Japanese. I wasn’t nearly as appalled as I thought I would be.”

  I sat forward. “The skirt?”

  “The skirt.” She repeated without missing a beat.

  I rubbed my temples, and she spoke through laughter. “Well, let’s hope you inherited your mother’s legs and not your dads.”

  “No such luck,” I mumbled under my breath. Then I perked up. “What kind of shoes do I have to wear?”

  She waved a hand. “As long as they’re black, you’ll have no issues.”

  I rushed to my suitcase and popped it open. I pulled out two industrial looking black boots and waved them in front of me. My aunt laughed again. “I suppose no one will fight you over wearing those, or they may be in trouble.”

  I grinned. They also belonged to Midnight. Trust me; Molly has had a field day with my obsession with wearing some of her things. I cleared my throat. “So why do they have a dress code?”

  She stood up and walked to the fireplace and grabbed the iron poker in her hand and stabbed at the pile of wood causing sparks to rise up the flute. My eyes were transfixed on the flames until she spun around with the poker in her hand and a piece of the charred wood skidded across the floor. I rushed toward it and knocked it back to the fireplace with the bottom of my boot, returning it to the fiery pit as she began to talk as if nothing had happened.

  She waved the poker around in her hand. “That would be the royals.” Her emphasis on the words told me she was disgusted. I stood up and blew on the bottom of my boot. I had to tap it on the edge of the fireplace to remove the last bits of smoldering wood.

  “The what?” I asked while inspecting the sole of my shoe.

  She placed the poker back in its stand and glared at me; I knew it wasn’t personal. She had a serious distaste for whoev
er these people were. “The royals are a group of people here in town that think they have the right to impose their beliefs on everyone. It’s ridiculous and annoys the piss out of me.”

  I giggled, and she mischievously eyed me. “I mean pee, not piss.” She pointed at me. “Don’t tell your father that I curse; I’ll never hear the end of it. He already thinks I’m a sailor.”

  “We don’t, I mean...I won’t tell him.” She paused and touched my cheek, not hesitating to lean in and hug me. She understood what I meant. I used to talk to my dad, not so much anymore.

  She stepped back and gently held my chin in between her thumb and index finger. She added a wink. “Good girl.”

  I cleared my throat. To be honest, I wasn’t used to such intimacy with anyone. I hate to sound like my parents were villainous, but hugs, kisses, and simple words of encouragement were never practiced with any sort of regularity.

  “So the royals, what gives them the authority to tell people what to do?” I asked, hoping to shake the thoughts of my strained relationship with my parents.

  She strolled over to her chair, gently picking up her hot chocolate and taking another drink. She lowered it and licked the chocolate mustache from her upper lip.

  “Each one is a descendant.” She paused then waved a hand. “I guess they feel the need to strangle the life out of everyone.”

  “Descendants? “ I asked.

  “Founders.” She clarified.

  My eyes shifted down then back toward the flames. “Well, the Navarri’s are founders, too, right?”

  She lowered her cup and set it down on the table, turning back to give me a wink.

  “Yes, in fact, our family and one other landed here first, and to this day there is still much debate as to who won the race. I say it was us, of course, but don’t try to tell Eyota Vega that.”