Amy

The first real chapter. This one is still very rough and unfinished- even moreso than "The Birthday Party"

About Amy:

 

   Amy is the bravest person I know.  Amy was half a head taller than the tallest boy in class with a face that was more freckle than skin and wiry hair the color of sunset.  Her mother was from Scotland and her father (who was from Chicago) died in a car wreck. Less than a month after the funeral she came to Gladville with her mother to live with a family friend who already had five children .  The house was small and Amy shared a bed with the young daughter who happened to have head lice.   So on her first day at the new school she was branded as the awkward, red-headed, freckle-faced itchy girl.  Russel Scully didn't hesistate to torment her.  There was a commercial at the time for a skin cream that would presumably relieve your, "red hot itch" and so that was what he called her. Not a clever kid, but Russel knew the power of a cruel nickname.  By the end of her first recess at Gladville Elementary she was a pariah and I was the only one who called her "Amy".  On her first day I walked home by her side.  She was sobbing and I offered a tissue.  She stopped to look around as if I were offering a cigarette or a loaded gun.  No one was around for miles so she took the tissue and proceeded to wipe and blow.  She didn't thank me.  Instead she simply said, "never let them see you cry".  I told her we had spiced wafers at home.  She had no idea what they were, so I invited her to my house to sample a local delight.

   Every day thereafter we would spend the afternoon in my rec room.  By the end of the school year Amy and her mom had moved into the house at the end of my block and the lice were a distant memory. Unfortunately, the nickname stuck.

 

--- 

 

 

   "Ms. Cutter!  Ms. Cutter! can you please tell your daughter she's crazy?" was not the way I would have started the conversation, but that's Amy for you. 

 

   "You're crazy."  said Mom. 

 

   "Mom! this is serious!"  I said in my most stern voice, "Who is Uncle Zino?  You don't have a brother. Does Daddy have a brother named Zino?  How come I never heard of him?"

 

   "Yes, absolutely." she grinned.

 

   "Absolutely what, mom?"

 

   "Absolutely crazy you are.  What the heck is an Uncle Zino? What kind of name is that?" 

 

  

   I thought about showing her the strange book and the note that came with it, but a feeling in my gut made me stop.  She freaked out when I first started using the Internet without supervision.  There was no telling what she might do over this weirdness.

 

"Ummm...never mind!"  I said and ran outside dragging Amy with me.

 

 

---

 

"What the heck was that all about?" she asked me, " I thought you wanted answers from your mom!"

 

"I do, but..."  I hesitated, "well, you know how she is.  If we tell her about that book she'll get all like a mom and take it away to 'protect' me."

 

"Can't say I disagree with her."

 

"Look Amy, you are my very best friend in the universe and I trust you, but sometimes you're a little too protective of me."

 

"Well..." she started, but I interrupted her.

 

"I have a strange feeling about that book.  I feel like it's something that we need to figure out on our own. 

 

When we got back outside Roger and Tessi were playing Marco Polo while Booker was leafing through my book.  Tessi was clinging on to Roger's arm with her eyes shut shouting, "I got you, I got you!  You're mine now!"

 

"Hands off my property!"  The words shot out of my mouth like arrows.  I didn't even think before I shouted them.  The weird thing is that I don't really know whether they were aimed at Booker or Tess. 

 

Deciding to focus on dealing with the book first and Tessi later I walked over to the table.  Gryphon Booker is not usually a good reader of emotions, but something in my face made him wheel away from the book.

 

"I was just looking at it..." he stammered, "I wanted to see if I could figure out where it came from...who made it..."on the back there is an inscription...in latin"

 

Booker is the smartest kid I know.  I don't think he knows Sanskrit or Hebrew, but he really is president of the school's Latin club.  If anyone can tell me more about my book he can. 

 

 Pointing to the inscription he read out loud to me, "Errare humanum est perseverare diabolicum: 'to err is human; to persist is of the Devil'."

 

"I don't get it." I admitted, "What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

 

"It's a famous latin quote...I think it was by...Seneca" (See I told you he was smart), "It means that people make mistakes, but to keep on doing the same stupid thing over and over again...well, that's just wrong.  Or something like that."

 

"Adele!" shouted mom, "Your dad is on the phone!"

 

Wow.  My dad actually called on my birthday.  Somehow he managed to dial a phone.  That's amazing.

 

I tucked the book back into it's box and closed the lid.  Giving Booker a look down my nose I said, "Don't touch it when I'm not around, please" and I went in the kitchen to talk to dad.

 

 

 

"Pumpkin! Happy Birthday," he smiled into the phone in that not quite real way of his, "We're real busy on the set, hon, but I promise to come see you by the end of the month.  I got you the most awesome present!"  My dad directed videos for a living.  Mostly washed up old bands I've never heard of trying to make a comeback.  I guess it's a living, but because of this his idea of an awesome present was a tee shirt signed by all the members of "The Lefthanders" or "Johnny go and the Ready-Sets".  Yeah, you never heard of them either, huh?

 

"That's cool dad" I said, "I can't wait."  Then I paused to make it seem more natural, "Dad, I have a question...do you have...a brother?"

 

"No honey, I don't, why do you ask?"

 

"So, you don't know of anyone in the family named Zino?"

 

"Zino?  Ummm...well, my grandmother came from Greece and I think she had a brother named Zino...but I never met him.  Are you doing some sort of family tree project?  For school or something?" He asked. 

 

"Yeah, that's what it is..." I lied.

 

"Oh, well, I can email you a list of the whole family.  Grandma's last name was Erevno.  Hekabe Erevno.  She was Greek."

 

"Yeah, you said that"

 

"Right, well, I can't talk for long, the drummer can only remain upright for two hours a day."

 

"OK Dad, I love you."

 

"I love you too baby.  I'll come see you real soon".

 

"OK Daddy, bye!"

 

"Bye"

 

So, it was true...I had an Uncle Zino.  He just probably died a long long time ago and yet somehow managed to get me a gift on my birthday.  Even though dad didn't.

 

That seemed pretty impossible at the time, but since then so many impossible things have happened that  I have stopped counting.

 

 

 

 

That night I sat up in bed for an hour just looking at it.  The book.  The 'grimoire'.  I didn't open it.  No way jose.  Not at night alone in my room with that red-eyed creepy man just under the cover.  So I let it sit on my dresser across the room and eyed it as if it contained a viper waiting to strike.  

 

Instead I read the letter over and over again a zillion times.  So, either this Uncle Zino guy wrote a letter to me long before I was born and somehow managed to get it here, or he is somehow still alive and knows where I live. I couldn't begin to guess which was worse.

 

There were some other weird names in the note too- Voynich, Tinderhock, Asmoday.

 

I read them out loud to myself, "Voynich...Tinderhock".  They just sounded like silly names.

 

 

Then it happened.  I spoke that last name out loud, "Asmoday."

 

I was suddenly aware of the silence in the room. 

 

 

RING!

 

The phone!  It scared the bejeebers out of me- just that intense shrill ring poking through the utter silence.

 

 

I looked at the phone by my bed.  It should have been ringing at that time of night.  All of my friends were sure to be in bed.

 

I knew if I didn't pick it up I'd hear Ned banging angily on my wall any second.  So, in spite of my intense foreboding (seriously- that thesaurus rocks!) I picked up the receiver.

 

"H-hello?" I said.

 

"..."  someone was there, I could tell, but they said nothing.

 

"Hello?! "

 

"..."

 

"Oh go away!" I slammed the phone down.

 

The last thing I needed then was some pervert calling me in the middle of the night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

There is still more to be added to this chapter...