Crumbling Walls (Jack and Emily #1)
Crumbling Walls
Thank You to those who made this possible…
My husband, Chris and daughter, Abby, who were always willing to be quiet while I wrote. I love you tons!
My mom and dad, Joe and Lois, who are truly awesome beyond all comprehension.
My cousin Dave Measel, who said if I didn’t publish this book, it’d be a crime … and then decided we might as well do it ourselves.
My first readers, who took a chance to read a pile of paper, which, by the end, had tire marks, food stains and smelled of gasoline:
My nieces Sarah and Ashley Mangrum, Dave Measel (Davy), my mom and my Aunt Carol, my mother-in-law, Marilyn Strandt, Sarah Rowse and Benny.
And finally, the people who helped us fund our little venture:
Chris, Joe and Lois, Marilyn, Ken, Kim, Marvin and Tracey, Bee, Kelly, Katherine, Jessica, Aunt Carol, Christina and Peter
Book One of the Jack and Emily Series
Crumbling Walls
By
Laura Strandt
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the express written approval of the publisher. For information regarding permission please write to Orange Publishing, LLC, 102 Miller St, Strasburg, PA 17579.
Text copyright © 2012 Orange Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. Published by Orange Publishing, LLC.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013930162
ISBN-13: 978-0-9887480-0-2 (Paperback Edition)
About the Author
I love books, plain and simple.
After devouring them for decades and telling stories to myself for years, I decided to take up the NaNoWriMo challenge in 2006 to try my hand at actually writing things down.
Dave, my cousin/best friend/partner in crime for the last 36 years, then spent our two-week vacation to the Grand Canyon reading it.
Fast forward to 2012. I still love books and thanks to NaNoWriMo, I have written six more (so far).
I’m a children’s librarian by day (and some evenings) but by night (and lunch hour), I am a writer. It’s totally the most perfect thing in the world: deadlines, writer’s block and all, including Dave’s hounding to change a paragraph, chapter or whole character personality because it’s crap.
I wouldn’t change a second of it and hope that you’ll read my book over and over again, so, like many of my own books, it needs liberal amounts of duct tape to hold the cover on and the pages in.
Prologue
As she slowly pulled the door shut, the shaft of light from the top of the stairs shrank, until the only thing illuminated were the two fingers of his left hand.
The door clicked shut a moment later, plunging him into complete darkness and for the first time, showing her the light.
Chapter 1
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He’d passed by the house at least twice a day for the past two weeks and, whenever she was there, he wished she would glance his way so he’d have an excuse to stop.
Being just 15, he didn’t have the courage, gumption or enough of what some would call an approaching sense of self, to talk to her first.
Until now.
Because now he had a reason.
Oh, it was a crappy, concocted, ‘set the chain of events in motion’ kind of reason, but again, being 15, he thought it was pure gold.
He would pretend his tire was going flat.
It was simple. It was ideal. It was perfect … and also rather stupid.
In the quick and easy act of leaning forward to stare at the tire, he managed to over-balance, tip sideways, knock into the small picket fence surrounding the front yard and take out several small snapdragon plants.
This, of course, not only made her look up, but stand quickly, causing the pile of papers in her lap to scatter all over the porch.
He righted himself quickly, turned a lurid shade of red in embarrassment and said the first thing that popped in his brain, still managing to stick to his story, “Sorry about your flowers. I, um, I've got a flat tire.”
After this, he just stood, wondering how odd it would be if he began banging his head on the concrete and wailing in sheer idiocy at his previous and hopefully last statement ever.
The girl, standing stock still on the porch steps, didn’t come over, didn’t open her mouth, didn’t even seem to breathe. She simply stared until the boy thought it better for everyone if he just got the hell out of there and found a new bike route.
Giving a small, pathetic wave by way of apology for disturbing her, he turned and continued down the street, cursing himself when he remembered that the reason for him stopping in the first place was a broken bike. Yeah, he was damn sure he'd blown it before it had even begun.
▪▪▪
Later that night, he sat at his family’s dinner table long after his brothers had run off to various summer entertainments: bike-riding, evening jobs, video games. He sat so long that his mother came over and tried to pry out of him exactly why he’d been so quiet. But prying tonight would be fruitless. And soon, his mother just shook her head, ruffled his hair and asked if he’d like to join them in a game of Monopoly.
With a shake of his head, “No thanks. I’ve still gotta go cut the lawn. It’s my turn.”
“Well, maybe when you’re done, see if Nate’ll help with the trimming. If I recall, he owes you for taking out the trash last week.”
Finally smiling, “Good thinkin’.”
▪▪▪
The next day, he found himself following his usual route. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason there he was, pedaling along, feeling an overwhelming nervousness and excitement mixed with a healthy dose of embarrassment.
He wanted to see her again. And he wasn’t disappointed. As he approached the house, there she was, this time a book propped on her lap rather than the paper. She was looking right at him as he swallowed hard and put on the brakes.
“No papers today?” She shook her head and held up the book so he could see the title, “Algebra for Dummies, huh? Just some light summer reading?”
She shook her head again, although this time a voice followed, “Summer school.” Now, normally, he’d have responded with something, but after hearing her voice, coupled with the piercing green eyes, he managed to forget exactly how to speak. He instead stood, staring openly at her until she finally, finally, finally, broke into a small smile, “You okay there?”
And he crashed back to Earth.
Shaking his head, “Um, yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.”
“It’s all right. Algebra pretty much makes me catatonic as well.”
Returning the smile, “I’m Jack.”
“Would you laugh if I said my name was Jill?”
“Probably.”
“Just checking.”
Slightly intrigued now, he hesitated before asking, “Your name isn't actually Jill though, is it?”
“No. I just wondered if you’d laugh.”
Shaking his head, “So, you gonna make me guess? ‘Cause we could be here for an awful long time?”
Setting her book on the porch, she walked towards him, “I imagine you might end up trying names like Bertha or Clementine and I just couldn’t handle that so,” holding out her hand, “I’m Emily.” After shaking his hand in an oddly formal gesture, she excused herself q
uickly, “I hate to go but I’ve gotta get ready for work. I’m sorry.”
“You have a job?”
She nodded her head, “Yeah. I work at Dragon Gardens, the Chinese place down on Main Street. I wash dishes, bus tables, anything really.”
“Are you 16 then?”
“Nope.”
Figuring one of her parents had signed some kind of work release, he moved on, “What about your Algebra?”
“That’s for after I get home.” Turning towards the house, she stopped and faced him again, “Why didn’t you ever stop to say hello before?”
Feeling his face heating immediately in embarrassment, he couldn’t believe the honest answer that dropped from his mouth, “I guess I was scared.”
“Of me?”
The surprised curiosity in her voice made him relax a little, “No, of those vicious snapdragons you’ve got by the fence … grabby little things.”
“Well, I’ll hold them back next time I see you. Promise.”
“Then I might just have to stop and say hi again.”
“You’ll probably find me trying to solve for X.”
“I could probably help with that.”
Nodding, “Maybe.”
And with that, she disappeared around the back of the house after scooping up the other books from the porch.
And with that, Jack decided that Emily could very well be the most beautiful name in the world.
▪▪▪
It took three more days of ride-bys before she was back outside on the porch. Slowing to a stop, he carefully avoided the replanted snapdragons, "Hey there."
"Hi."
"I haven't seen you for a few days. Are they trying to drown you in the egg-drop soup?"
She shook her head, "No, but this math is slowly beginning to kill me. You'd think it would sink in after awhile."
"Stuck, huh?"
"More like buried deep with no hope of resurrection." Shrugging, "But I'll get it eventually. I always do."
"You know, I know somebody who pretty much knows what X equals all the time. Maybe I could convince him to help you."
Emily, feeling just as nervous, if not more, took a bold step towards him off her porch, "You know a guy?"
"Last I checked he had an A or something like that."
"Would that be you?"
By now, she'd made it to the gate, girl on one side of the small picket fence, boy on the other.
"Am I that transparent?"
"Just a little bit, but I'll forgive you if you can tell me what a factorial is."
Jack, smiling, shook his head at her, "Oh lord, do we have some work to do."
She unlatched the gate so he could come in.
And they sat.
And learned.
And talked just a little bit.
All across the worn top of the rickety old table on the tiny porch.
And it was good.
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▪▪▪
An unspoken routine developed and by the end of the next week, Emily managed to get her first ever B on a math test.
“We should celebrate.”
She looked at him, confused, “For a B?”
“Yeah. Are you kidding? Given what you didn’t know two weeks ago, I’d say that B is a miracle.”
This time, the look went from confused to bewildered to completely blank, “Well, thanks for the help. But I think I’ve got it from here.”
Now it was Jack’s turn to look taken aback, “What? You’ve still got another test and a final to take.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Not sure what the hell had just happened, “Wait? I think I missed something here. What’d I do?”
“I refuse to let anyone call me stupid ever again. You did and now we’re through.” Turning to go, “Like I said, thanks for the help, but I’ve got it from here.” Reaching out to stop her, the minute his hand touched her arm, she jerked away, “Get off me.”
The anger behind those three words made him cringe back slightly and not wanting to do anything else to upset her, he walked away quietly.
▪▪▪
It was an amazing thing, what happened next. Jack made it home and when he walked in, the house was quiet. Either the Earth had swallowed up the herd or they were all lying dead somewhere, victims of some stupid stunt involving catapults and flaming tennis balls.
Neither was true. All the younger ones were at the library for some afternoon programs and, of course, his older brother was at work.
That left him to find his mom, calmly sitting on the back porch, her feet up and a bowl of ice cream on her lap.
Without a word, he exited through the screen door and dropped down next to her. She finished the spoonful she was on and offered him the last little bit in the bowl, which he gladly slurped down.
“So, how’s Jack today?”
“Jack is beginning to wonder what makes girls freak out?”
“Ahhh. ‘Bout time you got around to her. I’ve been wondering how long you’d hold out before you cracked.”
“You knew?”
“Are you joking? You’ve been surreptitiously digging into old Algebra books, you disappear every day between two o’clock and four o’clock and you’ve been wearing clean shirts.”
“All that points to a girl?”
“Of course. That and, while I was driving to the store the other day, I saw you sitting on a porch with someone.”
“I assume you didn’t tell the rest of them?”
She shook her head, “I was kind of hoping you’d tell me first. It’s nice to know something before the mob for once.”
He grinned at her, then remembered, “But I think I’m finished anyway so it doesn’t matter.”
“Finished? It’s only been a few weeks.” Turning, she pulled her leg up next to her, “What happened?”
With a shrug, “She got a B on her test and I told her we should celebrate. She asked why we’d do that ‘cause it was just a B.’ I told her that with what she didn’t know two weeks ago, a B was a miracle.”
“Okay.”
“Then she said something like ‘I refuse to let anyone call me stupid again’ and she walked away. I reached out to stop her and the minute my hand touched her, she panicked, said ‘get off me’ and went into her house.”
“You didn’t grab her did you?”
“No, I swear. I barely even felt her arm.” Demonstrating, “I’m amazed she even knew I touched her.”
Both turned towards the house as the commotion of four boys began to leak out of the open windows, “So much for quiet.” Looking back at her son, “A piece of advice, something hurt her; from the sound of it, probably a lot of things. You’ve already walked away and I won’t say a thing if you stay away, but …” with a tilt of her head, “maybe she needs a friend and I know you’re good at that.”
With a grin, she ruffled his hair and stood, heading into the chaos of the house while he sat back, his head on the cushion and his eyes closed, contemplating the complicated life of a 15-year-old boy.
▪▪▪
The next day, Jack had to watch the younger kids so he didn’t have a chance to find Emily but, as luck would have it, she found him.
They’d all just gotten back from an extremely long bike ride. After dropping their bikes on the driveway and collapsing in various piles on the front lawn, all was quiet.
That silence, however, was broken by a girl.
A girl with a voice that made Jack smile in spite of himself.
“You weren’t kidding about all of you looking alike, were you?”
Scrambling to his feet, “Um, yeah. Mom likes to joke that at least we don’t look like the mailman.” He motioned for the other four to stand up, “These are my younger brothers.” Pointing first to the tallest of them, “That’s Dave, he’s thirteen and a compulsive sock changer,” moving down the line by height, “next is Nate, eleven and willing to sell any one of his brothers for a jar of crunchy peanut butter.�
�� Shifting his finger to the next boy, “Then we have Tucker, who’s ten and the only left-handed, double jointed one in the bunch.” After a quick demonstration by Tucker of his thumb bending backwards to touch his arm, to which Emily could not contain her combination wince and grin, Jack finally turned to the smallest boy, “And this is Sam. He’s six, believes that any food dropped on the floor is fair game and that if he wishes hard enough, he truly will be able to fly one day.”