Page 83 of Ordinary Secrets

I expect the device to reject me again. This time, my mother speaks.

“Hi, honey.” I’ve forgotten what her voice sounds like. Hearing it makes me choke up.

I shoot off the floor and shove the device against my ear.

“If you’re listening to this, it’s probably because our plan didn’t go as planned and something bad has happened. You’re most likely with Aunt Debbie right now. We told her that if anything were to happen to us that she should tell you to hug your bear really tight and sing our song.”

The next voice is my father’s. “Son, your mama and I wanted to make sure that you’d be safe and taken care of. That’s why everything we have is now yours, including a safe house by our secret rock. Aunt Debbie is the only person you should trust, and the only person you should take with you.”

The only person I should trust?Why is the only person I should trust a woman who overdosed on z-drugs the morning my parents were killed?

I still remember the first thing I said when I arrived at Shadow Ridge and a grumpy Victor showed me to my new bedroom. “Why can’t I go live with Aunt Debbie?”

He laughed, then said something people shouldn’t say to seven-year-olds. “That bitch was found dead in her home yesterday with a syringe still in her hands.”

That was how I found out that I hadn’t lost only my parents the day before but also my only aunt. It clicked then why Aunt Debbie hadn’t come to babysit me when she was supposed to. How could she, when she was dead? As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to realize that Aunt Debbie’s death probably wasn’t an overdose.

My mother continues talking on the recording. “When you get to the rock, take a hundred steps away from Cheesy. There, you’ll find the safe house. You’re the only one who can get into it. Remember that Trackers can’t sense you once you’re inside and underground.”

“Take care, son,” my father says.

“And don’t ever forget that we love you.”

The recording stops.

I stare at the small device with my mouth open.That’s it?Who leaves a message for a child that basically says, “Hey, we’re dead. Here’s some money and a safe house. The only person you can trust is also dead, but have a good time at our rock!”

What bullshit!I’ve got half a mind to toss this stupid thing at the wall. I don’t, only because I’m afraid I’ll break it.

My whole life, I thought my parents just happened to cross the wrong Royals at the wrong time. Now it’s obvious that they knew the Royals were after them. Why else would they have prepared a safe house for me?

If they knew something would happen to them, why not run and take me with them? Why stay in the danger zone? Could finishing their mission really have been that important? More important than me, their son? They knew they were risking their lives, risking leaving me to grow up alone, and they went on anyway.They abandoned me on purpose!

I wipe away the one tear rolling down my cheek. After regaining my composure, I drag my phone out of my pocket and open the GPS app.

I can’t recall the exact town my parents used to take me to stargaze. It’s been so long. All I remember is that it was a town named after a person with a name starting with a J. My parents used to make up stories about whoever it was named after, saying they were probably a janitor, or a journalist, or a jewelry maker.

Now that I think about it, maybe my parents made up stories on purpose to help my young mind remember the right town. If that’s the case, that means they were putting things into place for over a year to keep me safe. Which would have been plentyof time for them to pack up and move away with me if they’d wanted to.

I scan the GPS for any J-named towns in California. Was it Jason? Jacob? Julie? Once I catch sight of the town Julian on the map, it clicks. Within a minute, I’ve got my helmet on and I’m mounting my bike.

Three hours later, my headlight illuminates a green sign that readsjulian 1 mile.

It’s been almost nineteen years since I’ve been around this area. Everything looks the same. Quiet roads, quieter woods, mountain peaks in the distance.

Just before the main town is a single-lane road that leads me to the woods where my parents used to take me. I recognize the spot where we used to park the car. My mother would always say we had to park by the huge Y-shaped tree. Now I’m certain she made those comments on purpose. There’s no way in hell a seven-year-old would have remembered where any of this was without her repetitive hints.

I cut my engine, then slide off my bike. After making sure no one’s around, I wave a hand at my Harley. It floats through the air at my side as I step into the dark woods. Once the road is out of view, I leave my bike and helmet behind a cluster of trees.

With a little fireball hovering in front of me, I hike deeper through the woods. My ears catch sounds of small animals scurrying around, but they’re gone before my eyes can spot them.

I step over a few fallen trees that I remember as bigger obstacles. My parents used to offer to lift me over them. Being the strong-willed kid I was, I insisted on climbing over them myself, without the help of a hover-log.

It feels like forever before I reach the big rock—or should I say biggish rock.Do I have the right one?I wave a hand to pushmy fireball closer to it. Like the fallen trees, it looks smaller than I remember.

My flame follows me as I head in the direction of Cheesy. It’s a tree I named for all the holes in its bark. I find it about six trees away from the rock.

“When you get to the rock, take a hundred steps away from Cheesy. There you’ll find the safe house.”

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