The Secret of Zormna Clendar - Julie Steimle (best autobiographies to read .txt) 📗

face with the faintest of blushes. “Actually, I grew up in a military school. You could say I never truly saw the country.”

“Military school?” That explained all the marching. Jennifer smirked.

Zormna nodded. “It was my high commander that sent me to live with my great aunt. He arranged it all.”

“Why didn’t you just go back home to your parents?” Jennifer asked, growing even more curious.

The girl averted her eyes to the ground with a flinch. “They’re dead.”

“Oh.” Jennifer pressed her hand over her mouth.  “I’m…I’m so—”

But Zormna waved it off. “They died when I was five. It was a long time ago.”

“So how did you end up in a military school?” Jennifer stared. “Don’t you need special funding for that? They’re, like, expensive.”

Zormna shrugged, looking away. “My uncle set it up, I think. When he died, his partner took me there. And I’ve been there ever since.”

“Wait a minute.” Jennifer lifted her hands, overwhelmed by all this shocking information. “Just a minute. Your parents died? Then your uncle died? And now here you have a dead great aunt?”

“That is right.” Zormna looked to her again, meeting Jennifer’s gaze grimly. “And it is making me unduly trepidatious.”

 “Unduly what?” Jennifer put her hand to her forehead. “What it is doing is freaking me out. Do I have to worry about someone coming after you?”

“I hope not,” Zormna said, then marched on.

Hope not? Shaking her head, Jennifer went a little quicker this time. She took the lead once more. “Explain.”

For a second, Zormna opened her mouth to explain, but her eyes turned on the Henderson twins who were pulling the weeds out of their grandmother’s front flower garden. Jennifer tried to tug Zormna along, but the girl watched as Mr. Henderson called to his sons while holding out a garbage bag and them urging them to fill it. The man smiled at the passing girls, nodding once to Jennifer whom he recognized. His eyes brightened when he saw Zormna. But unlike pervy Mr. Harker, Mr. Henderson didn’t leer and he soon went back to work.

Jennifer pulled her away. “You didn’t explain. What do you mean by ‘I hope not’?”

Sighing wearily, Zormna explained, “One of the main reasons I was sent to live here is to keep me safe from ne’er-do-wells.”

 “Ok…” Jennifer shook her head, thinking, Ne’re-do-wells? Really? Along with that thick Irish brogue, the girl had the weirdest vocabulary. “I get it…. Kinda’. So, now what?”

Shrugging, Zormna said, “I do not know. I need more information.”

Jennifer lurched with a look at her. “You sound like a computer.”

Zormna halted. She blinked at Jennifer with that puzzled I’m-a-blonde-so-I-don’t-understand look. At least, that was what Jennifer took it for at first. But then she soon realized she had grossly misunderstood Zormna’s empty stares. It was more like I’m-a-soldier, what-did-you-expect look.

With another eye-roll, Jennifer said, “How do you intend to get the information?”

Heavily sighing, Zormna’s expression had now turned desert dry. “I will investigate. Carefully.”

Such a conversation killer. This Zormna was turning out to really be the kind of girl Jennifer definitely did not like. She was so blunt. And vague.

They continued the walk in silence.

Mid-way, Jennifer beckoned Zormna to the narrow alley between the back yards of the houses. “Let’s go through here. It is a shortcut to Hayes Street.”

This particular alley had five trashcans standing in the opening surrounded by all sorts of household litter. These alleys were used as trash drop-offs wide enough for one small pedicab to drive through to collect garbage then take it to a larger vehicle on a main road. Jennifer went in as Zormna recoiled. Below their feet eggshells, orange peels and candy wrappers were intermixed with the shoe-trod pebbles. Scraggly grass crept up between brick steppingstones and pounded-down sand on a campaign to retake the territory.

Narrowly, Zormna peered into the shady (and rather pungent) alleyway, lifting her eyebrows at the ground cover while Jennifer went in, gingerly stepping over the debris so she would not end up in anything slimy.

“So, what was your school like?” Jennifer asked while continuing on.

Groaning at the mess, Zormna took a large step over a trash bag then caught up with Jennifer.

“Look,” Zormna said, “I do not really want to talk about it. It was a school. What else can be said?”

“What else?” Jennifer snorted, imagining all sorts of things as she led the way behind her neighbors’ homes. “It is a military school in Ireland. Who funded it? Did you learn to shoot guns? Did you climb walls? Run through obstacle courses? I’m curious.”

Yet as she said that, she caught a look on Zormna’s face that said the word curious was incorrect. Nosy seemed to be more to Zormna’s point of view of her. Jennifer didn’t like that.

“It was government funded.” Zormna finally huffed, the snotty-face. “I do not recall any wall-climbing we had to do. But if you want to talk about military training—yes, I learned to shoot a gun. I took classes in martial arts, mechanics, and vehicle operation. The rest is none of your concern.”

Jennifer halted this time. Turning, she blocked the way so they could go no further. “None of my concern? What? Is that the same as if you tell me you have to kill me?”

But Zormna did not back away like other girls did when Jennifer challenged them. Instead, the blonde leaned in to face her. Her eyes narrowed dryly. “Are your military schools like that?”

“No.” Jennifer got the impression the girl was talking to her like an adult did to an insufferable child. “But you make everything sound so—I don’t know—mysterious.”

“So?” Zormna just stared.

“So…who can possibly stand that?”

“What do you mean, stand it?”

“I don’t like secrets,” Jennifer snapped. “Spill. I need details.”

“For what?” Zormna asked, frowning more.

Shrugging with an up-toss of her hands, Jennifer continued back on their way to the house. “To figure you out. I don’t know what to think about you right now.”

Zormna did not reply. Her green eyes focused on Jennifer for a full minute before she shook her head and trudged after Jennifer, remaining in silence.

She kicked the junk at her feet grumbling incoherently under her breath. One thing Jennifer did understand. Zormna muttered, “…stupid place.”

Jennifer lurched to a stop. “If it is so stupid then why don’t you just go back?”

Jerking her head up, Zormna narrowed her eyes. “If I had the means, I would. But I am stuck, as it were.”

“You know, I don’t have to help you!” Jennifer snapped back. “And by the way, Pennington is a great place.”

Zormna closed her eyes. Her hands balled into fists, her neck going rigid. She heaved in deep, possibly temper-controlling breaths, remaining silent.

“In fact, America is awesome,” Jennifer added, waiting for some Irish protestation to the contrary.

Zormna drew in deep breaths. She let them out. After several in silence, Zormna opened her dark green eyes, fixing them on Jennifer. She didn’t say anything for a long while.

Finally, she replied, “Look—I am sure this place is…awesome for you. But this is not my home. And I have no more family.”

All the blood rushed out of Jennifer’s face. Things added up again in her head. Parents gone. Uncle gone. Great aunt gone. No more family…at all? Jennifer stared. Zormna’s eyes were red, she now saw, from crying. The girl was barely holding it together.

“Hey. Hey.” Jennifer put an arm around the blonde, attempting in some way to comfort her. “You’re going to be ok.”

But Zormna only shook her head. She sniffed this time. A tear dribbled down her face. Zormna quickly wiped it off, looking embarrassed.

“Hey, we’re going to help you out,” Jennifer said, feeling guilty now. “We promised, didn’t we?”

Nodding sheepishly, Zormna rubbed more tears away with the back of her hand. Jennifer almost though she was acting, but the girl kept averting her face as if she did not want to be seen like this.

“Alright.” Jennifer still felt stupid, not sure if she was really being such a heel or was getting played by an excellent actress. “No more talking about your school and stuff. I get it. I’ll tell you about mine instead.”

Complete confusion emerged on Zormna’s face. “Ok?”

“I mean, you’ll be joining me once you get settled in,” Jennifer explained.

Zormna’s eyes widened. Then she laughed. “No, I am not.”

“Of course you are.” Jennifer retorted. “Mom’s not going to let you stay at home and do nothing.”

Tossing those fiery blonde curls back from her face, Zormna said in the frankest tone possible while banishing another tear, “Look, Jennifer. I have already graduated school. I am done.”

“Graduated?” Jennifer peered at her. “How old are you?”

Shrugging, Zormna gestured for them to go onward.

“No, really.” Jennifer refused to go further until she got a response.

Zormna chuckled. “Fourteen. Now can we go?”

With a giving up nod, Jennifer continued on. Yet peeking at the girl, she certainly didn’t look just fourteen, though it explained her height.

They reached the end of the alley and stepped out onto Kennedy Street. Across from the alley was a two-story cream-colored house with large picture windows. Just to the right of it, towering on the corner like a queen on a tuffet, sat the large powder blue Victorian style house where the crazy lady had once lived. The paint was peeling off, shedding bleached-blue curls all over the shaggy-as-a-hayfield lawn. Dandelions ran wild all over the sloping grass, making it one of the most dilapidated looking places Jennifer ever knew.

“Is that it?” Zormna followed her gaze, peered up at the third level turret, then down the two floors to the veranda at the front.

Nodding, Jennifer crossed the street.

She led Zormna over the hillocky lawn up to the front steps. The moment Jennifer reached the first step, she halted. Wide as castle gates, the doorway gaped open in front of her.

“Look at that, it is open.” Zormna hopped up to the doorway, passing Jennifer She peeked her head in. “That makes it easier.”

Hurrying quickly after her, Jennifer hissed, “Yeah. But what is it doing open? The psycho who killed your aunt could be there looking for you!”

White-faced, Zormna halted. “Possible….”

Jennifer retreated to the side of the door, peering around to the street. She spotted two cars parked at the curb. Sedans. Sleek, clean, and dark. No insignias on them or anything, so not police cars at least. Nor anything like a service van.

Voices also came from inside the house.

“…But not likely,” Zormna murmured after a moment’s thought. “I do not think a killer would park so publicly, or leave a door wide open. Let us go inside and ask them their business.”

Turning a wan look on her, Jennifer stared a full minute. Walking into a house that did not belong to them, and they would ask those others their business?

Then a thought occurred to Jennifer, she hurried after Zormna. “What if they are the FBI?”

Sighing, Zormna gave that a momentary thought then said, “If they are government men, then they are incredibly unprofessional. Why would they leave the front door open?”

 Good point, Jennifer thought. Though, the FBI in this case had no reason to sneak around.

“I think,” and Zormna stepped back to the open doorway again, “that those inside are people who feel they have a right to be in there.”

“The FBI would think that,” Jennifer hissed.

But Zormna shook her head. “I think not. I do believe that agents would have to be discreet. If I were investigating a murder, then I would not want the perpetrators to believe I was on their trail. That means going quietly.”

She immediately marched inside the house. “Besides, there is something in here I need to find.”

Jennifer hurried in after her. “This is a big mistake!” She kept her voice just above a whisper, but she felt like shouting. “We can just go buy new pillows. It is no big deal.”

But Zormna had already marched into the kitchen. It was just to the right of the front door.

Jennifer lingered in the entryway. It had been over two years since she had last entered that place. Layers of dust covered everything within the spacious living