Nameless Novel Excerpt

“Breakfast is ready!”  My mom seemed to know exactly where to project her voice so that it would properly reverberate up the stairs and into my room.  My room had been pink for as long as I can remember.  I hate pink.  I was promised a room makeover for my thirteenth birthday, but that was before my dad was laid off.  I’m fourteen now, and the old vinyl wallpaper smothered in flowery pink hearts remains glued to my walls, surrounding me in a cage of pre-pubescence.

Not surprising, our circumstances adhered to my fated misfortune.  My drawers remained stuffed with last year’s clothes and my first year of high school and an entirely new assembly of kids and fashion faux pas to conform to was only months away.

It was summer break now, and I clung to the ease of isolation.  Throwing on an old gray t-shirt I grabbed my knapsack and delved into my secret drawer looking for my favourite roller ball pen.  It wrote smoother then my other pens, so I kept it near my diary hoping it would aid the flow and miraculously embellish my monotonous entries.

‘Success,’ I smiled, finding it lodged between the outer pages of a nine-month old Seventeen magazine that I had scavenged during my last trip to the doctor’s office.  I quickly tucked the pen into the front pocket of my knapsack and lifted up my bed skirt in search of my flashlight.

“Flashlight - check.”  I pulled it out from under a laundered sock and clicked the switch.  The bright beam poured out over my carpeted floor and glanced off my gerbil’s cage.

“You guys could use some food I see.”  I clicked off the light and shoved it into my knapsack.  Reaching into the plastic bag below my desk I took out a small handful of sunflower seeds.  The wire door rattled as I unclipped the latch and opened the door, spilling out the seed into their small green dish.  I sat for a moment as Max and Hiccup woke from the noise and stretched their tiny arms out in front of them.  They tottered sleepily out of their nest of pine shavings to investigate.

“Jordan!  What on earth is taking you so long?”  The sharp voice startled me.  My Mother stood in the doorway to my room looking frazzled.  “Breakfast is getting cold, now come downstairs and eat.”

“Okay already!”  I latched the cage door shut, quickly threw my knapsack over my shoulder and thundered down the stairs into the kitchen.

My younger brother Rylan had already made a mess of the breakfast table; scattering cheerios and toothpicks around himself as he had begun to build what looked like a weak attempt of the Eiffel tower with them.  Dad’s head was buried in the daily newspaper as usual.

“There’s an article on the old mansion,” he said.  Then, noticing me over the top of the pages he added, without fully looking up, “Well, good morning Jordan.  So glad you could join us for breakfast.”

“Not that hungry anyways Dad,” I replied under my breath.  But, like every morning, I sat down at the table to pick at my food.
 
“Hey Jordan,” Rylan looked up at me with far too large a smile for this early in the morning.  “Guess how many cheerios come in a box?"

“I don’t know,” I replied dryly.  As if I even cared.

“Bet ya five bucks you’ll never guess,” he persisted.  “I’ll even give you ten guesses.”  He urged knowing the odds were in his favour.  Rylan even at the age of nine had this unbelievable ability to make money.  His earnings rivaled my babysitting income and John’s paper route savings.

“I have no idea – a couple thousand maybe?” I looked over the scattered pile.  “Who cares?”

“Is that your guess?” he asked.

“I’m NOT guessing!” my voice rose in frustration.

“Hey Mom, you want to give it a go?” he glanced her way.

“Not today honey.  I’ve got to get over to the school before everyone else shows up or I’ll never get any good photos,” she replied while lacing up her shoes.  “Make sure Jordan eats something Harold.  I’ll see you at the school.”  She threw her camera bag over her shoulder, grabbed her tripod and headed out the door.

“Dad?” Rylan’s voice still filled with optimism over possibly snatching up a few bucks.

“Not sure buddy,” he said picking one up off the table and tossing it into his mouth.

“Well,” piped in Rylan regardless of our lack of interest.  “It depends on whether you get the family size, or a regular box like this one.”  Rylan glanced my way to see if I was the least bit curious.  I was.

“So how many then?” I said off handedly.

“Two thousand, one hundred and fifty six,” he smiled.  “But I would have given it to you give or take a hundred.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting,” said Dad.

‘It is?’ I thought, but then realized he was still reading the news.

“Did you know that the old mansion has been vacant for over two hundred years?” Dad continued reading.  “It says here,

When first enquiring about the run down building on 3 Maple Grove, the town’s records regarding the estate were difficult to find, as it has lain vacant for over two centuries.
“It is unfortunate that no heir has come forward to claim the property, leaving it to ruin over the weathered years,” said Mayor Daniel B. Sloan in yesterday’s press conference.  “I’m sure there would be no better purpose for this tired old mansion than to open it this fall as Lockhart Academy.”

“Hey, mum’s photo made it in the paper!” he paused and lifted up the section for me to see.  There on the front page of the ‘Community Living’ section was the headline ‘Three Maple Grove Is New Home for Lockhart High’ and just above a black and white photo of the old stone mansion covered heavily in vines.

“Does it say anything about it being haunted?” I was hopeful.

“Haunted?  Now where did you get an idea like that?”

“Dad, look at the old thing!” I was disappointed he hadn’t heard.  “It’s a well known fact that the old mad man who used to live in the house apparently haunts it.”

“Apparently,” he chuckled and I sensed the sarcastic edge in his voice.  “Either way, it is going to be fun to finally see what’s inside that thing after all these years,” he continued. “They’re figuring half the town is going to show up to help clean.”

It was difficult not to get excited over the prospect of the day ahead, for there wasn’t a student or resident of Lockhart that didn’t want to go beyond the wrought iron gates and peak inside the solemn, quiet old building that had overlooked the town in mystery for years.

“I’ve eaten most of my breakfast, can we go now?” I managed to say with cold eggs still lingering in my mouth.  Even with ketchup, they were unwilling to go down.

“Fine, but don’t tell your mother I didn’t force you to eat more.  And brush your teeth while I help your brother eat up this tower.”