Out of Luck - Julie Steimle (story books for 5 year olds TXT) 📗

that.
Eventually I found the path that ran through the middle of the park and I glanced at the tree I had once met a vampire in on Halloween night. With a look over at mountains where they resided, I wondered what my birth father was dreaming about right now—or if vampires dreamed at all when they slept in the day time. With a smirk on my lips, I continued at a stroll, passing a flower booth, a medieval garb booth, a haggis booth, a corned beef and cabbage booth that also sold sausage on a stick. There was a booth made up like an old bar, and already men were getting drunk on green beer. I saw Melissa Pickles getting drunk there too. If her mother saw her….
Well, it was none of my business anyway. She would catch it soon enough.
I continued on, passing the dancing lawn, which thankfully was on the southern end of the park. Near by the stage was being set up. They were most adjusting the sound so that the local bands and Celtic groups could perform. Benches were brought in from the local protestant church. I wonder what the Catholics thought about that? They couldn’t loan any. Their pews were bolted down to the ground. But still, some people never let go of an Irish feud. Take the McDonalds, for example.
But that also was none of my business, so I circumvented the benches and crossed over the baseball diamond where the retirement club was gathering for a senior citizen’s only baseball game. Those were fun to watch. I figured that after the dancing I could go to that. The game would take a while anyway.
Past the baseball field, it was smooth walking. Families were claiming picnic tables, kids were playing in the sandbox and on the jungle gym, and I headed towards the parking lot so I could gut through to go home.
“Whisky! I love you whisky!” A man staggered across the west parking lot and nearly tripped over me in the process.
I jumped back, avoiding the collision that would have sent me sprawled on the grass with a strange drunkard. Luckily, he toppled the other way and dropped in a patch of clover the caretaker would have had a fit about if he had seen it. In fact, I wondered how he missed this spot. He never missed anything, even footprints in the flowerbeds when we chased after lost balls.
“Watch where you’re going!” I glared at him.
He didn’t see my eyes flare red. He was too busy chugging down from a bottle wrapped in brown paper, full of whisky I suppose.
“Sssso, ssssorry,” he slurred.
I cringed, retreating from him. I hated liquor breath. Once Dawn came home smelling almost as foul as he did, and Mom grounded her for a month.
Turning away, I continued on my journey home. My stomach was growling for a second breakfast anyway and I needed to get back in time for practice. My coach would get cranky if I were held up simply because our formation needed an even number of people in it.
“Whisky!” the man sang as if he were oblivious to the world beyond his wrapped bottle. “I love you whisky! You love it too! Drink up a….”
Glancing at him as I stepped into the road, I merely held my breath from his stench. He’d be picked up soon enough anyway. I didn’t need to worry. The cops only tolerated drunks from beer on St. Patty’s Day. But they never allowed winos to linger in the park. Ever.
So, down Limerick Road I hurried while everyone else was gathering where the action was going. When I turned onto Kennedy Street, some of the people passing by looked at me as if I were the biggest scrooge on the planet, if one could be a scrooge for St. Patty’s Day. Had they known I was merely picking up my stuff, I’m sure they would have found some other reason to hate me. I suppose in that case I would have been considered ‘goody-goody Eve’ instead of ‘the-demon-from-who-knows-where’. But really, who cares?
Hopping onto the curb, I slowed my pace somewhat. I had to cross three more streets before I was at least on the same road as our house. It wasn’t too far. A handful of blocks at least. Some little imps following me shouted for me to just fly home, but really what kind of commotion would that cause? Only my family, my history teacher and my best friend knew that had wings. Besides, I knew the imps were just goading me to cause trouble. In fact, as soon as I could, I grabbed the both of them and tossed them into a trashcan. They hate it when I do that.
Not that they can’t get out of a trashcan. For heaven sake, they can fly through walls and other solid objects that aren’t alive. No. They just hate it when I expose them to the mortal world by touching them. Nothing mortal can catch them in most circumstances. I suppose my fast hands come from my birth mother’s side. She was an imp, you know.
Turning onto Maple Street, I looked back to see if the imps had decided to follow me after all. I could feel their presence. I was so used to telling even with my eyes closed that they were around, even if they ever managed to be silent. But looking back, there was nobody. Not an imp and not even stray cat. I looked up in the air, wondering if they flew up to tease me.
Nope. No one.
I continued on, passing my friend’s house. Mrs. Bennetti was just pulling out of the driveway. Jane wasn’t with her though.
Jane’s mom rolled down her window and stuck her head, calling to me. “Where are you going? Jane went over to the park to meet you.”
Oh, yeah. Mrs. Bennetti also knew what I was, but since last Halloween when I saved Jane from a vampire she has been tons nicer to me. She even makes Italian food without the garlic for Jane and I to share when I study at her house.
“I forgot my dance costume,” I said, looking pathetic and shrugging my shoulders.
With a grin, Mrs. Bennetti waved to me. “Ok, I’ll tell her when I see her. Don’t be long.”
I really liked her. I think once she realized that I wasn’t a threat to her daughter, she lightened up a great deal. I suppose she thought I was an asset to have around now. Funny, how people are.
Strolling down the sidewalk, I passed Mr. Beaver’s house. The shades were drawn. My Science teacher was not home though. If he were, the windows would be open and he’d be leaning out of it half the time, just watering his window boxes and breathing in and out. He said fresh air was God’s gift to us—kind of a funny thing for a Science teacher to say. Granted, as I recall, he started to get very religious when I became a freshman. He had been a devout atheist before.
I stopped partway along the road. That feeling like I was being followed. It happened again.
I spun around, ready for my attacker.
Nada.
Nothing was on the road except for a passing car and they were not heading towards me.
I listened to the air.
Nothing.
Drawing in a deep breath, I smelled the air.
Yes, there is where I sensed it. It had the same stink as that drunk in the park. It wasn’t very strong, but it was there. Was he following me?
Looking to the bushes for movement, I saw nothing of use. There was a bird, but I knew I was not feeling a bird watching me. In fact, it felt like the drunk was on the sidewalk right in front of me.
“Alright,” I said aloud. “I can’t see you, but don’t you think you’ll get away with anything. I’m dangerous. And I will hurt you if you try anything.”
It was strange, but I could feel the presence retreat somewhat. Not gone, but backed off. It wasn’t an imp, whatever it was. I started to think that maybe it was a ghost. Maybe that man just died back there and he was planning to haunt me.
Normally I don’t get scared. I found horror movies silly, slasher movies doubly so, and the only thing that ever gave me chills was my History teacher with a wooden stake in his hand, and even he is not all that scary. This was as creepy as Mrs. Bale’s empty house that everyone says is haunted. I wouldn’t know. I don’t live on that side of town.
I started at a run. My house was only a bit down the street anyway.
Dashing up my front steps, I yanked open the front door, slammed it shut and panted as I stared at the door as if I could see through it. Blinking at my own stupidity, I peered out the peephole. Nothing still.
Was it my imagination? I didn’t know. All I knew was that my heart was pounding a billion beats a minute. It was all I could hear, actually, as I leaned my head on the door to regain my composure.
“Eve! Didn’t you hear me?” My mother stuck her face next to mine.
I lifted my head and turned. “Uh. No. What did you say?”
My mother put her hands onto her hips and narrowed her eyes at me. “What have you been up to?”
“Nothing.” I sounded hurt. Normally she took that accusatory tone with Dawn, not me. I had been the good child.
She lifted her eyebrows at me. “Really? Then why are you out of breath?”
I took a large step from the door, not feeling the presence anymore. “I ran home. It felt like I was being followed.”
My mom’s face changed in expressions. Concern was in her eyes. This was the mother I knew. “Oh, is that true?”
She walked to the door and peered out the peephole too.
“I couldn’t see him,” I said, stepping aside with some relief that she was there. “I only felt like there was someone following me.”
Mom turned around and drew in a breath as if thinking hard. She folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t think the city council hired somebody else besides Mr. McDillan to keep an eye on you, do you?”
I blinked at that. “That hadn’t occurred to me, actually.”
My mom nodded to herself. “Maybe I’d better drive you to the carnival. I was just waiting for your father, and I needed to wait for the cake to cool so